


Dance Into the Fire

by debiann301



Category: Duran Duran
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Dark fic, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Self Harm, Sociopath, Toxic Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:42:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 26
Words: 40,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24325225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debiann301/pseuds/debiann301
Summary: John cannot run from his past.
Relationships: John Taylor (Duran Duran)/Original Male Character(s), Nick Rhodes/Roger Taylor (Duran Duran), Simon Le Bon/John Taylor (Duran Duran)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 39





	1. I'm Sure You Know It's Just For You

John let out a frustrated sigh and ran his hand through his newly blonde fringe. He was alone in the studio, working on a bass line that was just not meeting with his expectations. The others had left hours ago, each to his own distraction. With another sigh, John put his bass back in its stand and stood up, stretching cramped muscles. He strode out of the small studio towards the break room down the hall. Reaching the fridge he grabbed a bottle of beer, wishing that he has some blow with him. But, he had made Simon a promise to cut back on the stuff, especially in the studio and John was trying.

He smiled as he thought of the front man. Their friendship had recently changed and they were now a couple though only the band knew. Their relationship was so different than his previous one. Simon was content to take it slow with him, not demanding or threatening. They hadn’t gotten beyond first base yet, had not even been naked with each other yet, and that was what John needed right now after the dark days, weeks and months with …

“Stop!” John said out loud, startling himself out of the dark memories that had threatened to bubble up into his mind. “Just stop.”  
He took another swig from the bottle and stepped out into the little garden in the back of the boxy building that housed the studio. He looked up at the night sky and listened to the London traffic as he lit up a smoke. Another thing he had promised Simon he would cut back on, it was the first he had smoked all day. John was proud of that little victory. He was so caught up in his thoughts of Simon that he failed to hear the door open behind him. 

Simon stopped to take in the view of his new lover {OK, they weren’t lovers yet but Simon was convinced that it would happen soon} standing in the dark, illuminated by the soft glow of the light streaming through the windows of the break room. He silently approached John from behind, placing his hands on John’s shoulders. John immediately stiffened and his breathing hitched.

“Just me, Johnny,” he said softly. John relaxed and leaned back into Simon.

“Sorry,” he said, guiltily. Of course it was Simon. Why did he always over react when someone touched him unexpectedly? It frustrated him to no end.

“No, I’m the one who is sorry,” Simon wrapped his arms around John’s middle, pulling him closer, resting his chin on John’s shoulder. He’s happy that he couldn’t feel the younger man’s bone poking him through their respective tops like they did just a few months back. Color had returned to his face and a sparkle to his eyes. Simon still kicked himself that he had not seen how things had gotten out of control between John and, well, that didn’t matter anymore. John was his now and that was all that mattered. He gave John a chaste kiss to his cheek.

“That bass line still giving you trouble?” he asked.

“Yeah,” John let his head lay back on Simon’s shoulder. “I’m just not feeling it. It just doesn’t work with Roger’s beat. I’m missing something.”

“Maybe you need some inspiration,” Simon whispered into John’s ear before he nipped at the lobe. John purred and turned in Simon’s arms so they were face to face. John wrapped his arms around Simon’s neck.

“Maybe. Any ideas?” he asked, looking into Simon’s blue eyes.

“I just may,” Simon leaned in to capture John’s lips with his own. He adjusted his grip on John, pulling the other man’s hips closer so their pelvises were rubbing against each other. John deepened the kiss as he bucked into Simon. He smiled as he felt Simon’s hardness through their trousers. He broke away from Simon with a smile and gracefully sank to his knees, hands already undoing the other man’s belt.

“John, you don’t have to…”

“I know,” he responded with an angelic look on his face, “I want to. Please let me.”

Simon swallowed hard. Seeing John on his knees in front of him, with that look on his face, was turning him on more than he was ready to admit. John had never given him a blow job before; he had hardly ever initiated kissing and cuddling. Simon had envisioned the first time happening in the privacy of their bedroom not in the back garden of the studio where anyone could walk in on them. But, he could not bring himself to stop John. This was a big step in John’s healing, and besides, Simon was by now painfully hard.

“Okay,” he managed to choke out. John’s face lit up even more with lust. He undid Simon’s pants and pulled them down his long legs.

“Expecting something?” he smirked when he saw that Simon was going commando. Simon’s cock bobbed in front of him already dripping. John lapped up the beads of liquid at the head, running his tongue around it before licking from the base to the tip. Simon moaned with pleasure. His moan turned into a gasp of surprise as his cock was fully engulfed by John’s mouth. He looked down at the other man on his knees. John was looking back up at him, his eyes darkened with lust. John maintained eye contact with him as he hallowed out his cheeks and sucked.   
Simon saw stars. He had to grab the edge of the table he was leaning against when John started bobbing his head up and down, to keep from grabbing John’s hair and fucking that hot, moist mouth. He wasn’t going to last long at this pace.

“Johnny, oh, I’m gonna, I’m gonna,” he managed to force out, trying to warn John. John refused to back off and started to hum. That vibration did it. With a cry, Simon came hard. John swallowed the whole load, licking him clean. He kissed the tip of Simon’s now flaccid cock and stood up. Simon caught him around the waist again and kissed John deeply, tasting himself on John’s tongue.

“That was great,” he managed to get out as his heart started to return to its normal rhythm. “No, it was terrific!”

“You really liked it?” John asked timidly.

“You couldn’t tell?” Simon chuckled as he pulled his pants up. John giggled at that.

“Ummm, do you need help to…” Simon trailed off. John looked down and shook his head, trying to hide the wave of sadness and shame that came flooding up. Simon wrapped John up into a big bear hug.

“It’s okay, Johnny,” he began. John pulled away.

“No! No, it’s not okay! I just had the great pleasure of giving my boyfriend our first blow job and I can’t even get semi-hard! That is not okay!”  
Simon gathered him back into his arms.

“Hey, you took a huge step here. Huge! And you didn’t flash back. By the look in your eyes I’d say that you enjoyed giving it. This is just the first step. Things will be different when we take the next step together. Come home with me. We can continue this there.”

“I really want to work on that bass line some more before I give up for the night.”

“Okay. Just don’t be too late.” Simon wrapped his arm around John’s waist and together they walked back into the building. Little did they know that they had had an audience watching them through the gap in the back gate of the garden.


	2. Close the Door

An hour later, John was finally pleased with the bass line he had crafted for the A-part of the as yet un-named song. He would work on the B-part tomorrow with Roger. Humming to himself he went around the room turning off the equipment he had been using and just generally tidying up for the morning. While he was wiping down his bass he heard the door open up behind him.

“Geez, Charlie, it’s only been an hour! Are you that impatient?” John laughed.  
“Hello, Nigel.”

John froze at the voice. He was shaking so hard he could not hold onto his bass and it crashed to the floor. He turned around to see the man of his nightmares standing there. Dylan. A former bouncer at the Rum Runner where they had met in 1978. John’s first real relationship, the one that ended in disaster. The man who had used and abused him.

“It’s good to see you again,” Dylan stepped further into the room. John unconsciously took a step backwards. “Don’t you have anything to say to your old mate, Nigel?”

“Don’t call me that!” John blurted out. “I’m not Nigel anymore!”

“Oh, that’s right. You go by John now, don’t you? What happened to poor, sweet Nigel?”

John retreated further. “You killed Nigel!” he hissed.

Dylan had the nerve to look surprised and hurt by that statement. “I did?” he asked, stalking closer to John. John continued to maintain the distance between them, stepping backwards until he hit the wall. Panic began coursing through his veins.

“So, you’re John now, huh? I bet John is everything that Nigel wasn’t. Smart, cool, strong, in control of every situation. Yeah, I saw you in control out in the garden with Simon. You’re with him now, huh? You certainly rocked his world but I didn’t see him return the favor. Hell, you didn’t even get hard, did you?” Dylan was looming over him now. John was a tall man, but Dylan, at 6 foot 7 inches, was much taller. He leered down at the smaller man, enjoying the fear pouring off of his ex-boyfriend.

John could hardly breathe. His worst nightmare was coming true. Dylan was here and he had been watching him and Simon earlier. How long had Dylan been following him without him knowing it? Now he was alone with Dylan and Dylan was stalking closer.

“So Simon couldn’t get you up, huh, John?” he was now right in front of John, leering down at him. “How about Nigel and I give it a try? Because Nigel isn’t dead, he’s right here in front of me. Nigel is who you are, who you will always be. John is a façade.”

“NO!” John cried out and darted towards the side, praying that he would be fast enough to get around Dylan and out the door. His prayer went unanswered. Dylan threw an arm out across John’s chest and slammed him back into the wall. John had the breath knocked out of him. Dylan had him pinned against the wall, placing one big hand around John’s throat, threatening to cut off his air supply. John was fully panicking now. He was trapped! Trapped by Dylan! And he was right, Nigel wasn’t dead and gone. He was right here. It was John who was gone. He openly sobbed; knowing full well what would happen if there were no tears.

Dylan laughed. “See, now there’s the Nigel I love.” He bent down to lick the tears off of John’s face. John flinched hard in disgust but then froze.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

“I’ll let it slide, for now.”Dylan said, just as softly. Dylan’s free hand started working at John’s belt. John eyes widened in shock. He desperately tried to pull Dylan’s hand away from his pants. Dylan back handed John across the face and tightened his grip around John’s throat. John clawed and clutched at the hand. Dylan’s free hand made short work of loosening John’s trousers and pushing them out of the way.

“Please, don’t!” John sobbed.

“Shhh. I’m going to make you feel good!” Dylan whispered. He grabbed John’s cock, pulling and jerking roughly. John continued to struggle.

“Stop! Please, stop!” he begged, trying to swat the offending hand away. He jerked and twisted his body around, trying to break free, trying to kick out at the larger man. “Please, you’re hurting me! Please, stop! Stop!”

“Your mouth says no but your body says yes,” Dylan stated with a laugh. Sure enough, John felt himself getting hard. “Remember, the stronger the struggle, the sweeter the surrender. And Nigel always, always surrenders,” Dylan leaned down to again lick the tears off of John’s face. Humiliated, John stopped struggling. It was true; Nigel always gave into Dylan in the end. And, now, so was John. He stood numbly, hands hanging at his side, staring blankly right in front of him as Dylan roughly and painfully squeezed and jerked him off. He would moan softly at the worst of the pain, internalizing the rest.

John didn’t know how much more he could take. Dylan had rubbed him raw and he would not have been surprised if there was blood on Dylan’s hand. He had to end this somehow. And he knew just how.

“Please, “he said, hoarsely. “Please,” a little stronger this time.

“Please, what?” Dylan asked, squeezing hard enough to make John yelp.

“Please let me come,” he begged, unable to make eye contact. Dylan was having none of it, though.

“Look at me when you speak!” he roared. John’s eyes snapped up to Dylan’s steely gray orbs. The larger man relished the fear, humiliation and self loathing he saw in John’s eyes. Just like the good old days when he was the center of John’s, no Nigel’s world. It pleased him how quickly he was able to make the younger man crumble in front of him again. “Tell me what you want. Loud and clearly.”

John didn’t blink. “Please, sir, may I come?”

“That’s my boy. Yes, Nigel, come for me.”

With a scream, John whited out. He was barely aware of Dylan finally letting go of this abused throat and crumbling to the ground. As he drew in big breaths of air, Dylan crouched down in front of him.

“Guess I trained you really well. That’s what Simon needs to do. Retrain you. You need someone who is firm, strong, strict and always in control of the situation. Is Simon that man?” Dylan straightened up. “Clean yourself up before you go home to him. I’ll let myself out.” He strode towards the door. “Oh,” he turned and took another look at his former lover, “And lock the door behind me. You don’t want some stranger to walk in off of the street. It isn’t safe.” With that he was gone.

John painfully got to his feet and staggered to the bathroom. He scrubbed his face until it was red, washing away the feeling of Dylan’s tongue scraping across his cheek. He would have to wait until he got home to clean up the rest of him. He fixed his pants and with a shaky breath, he headed to the break room for a beer, or something stronger if he could find anything. He grabbed the beer as he ransacked the room for anything harder. As he passed the door, he noticed it was ajar. He froze. The back door. He had not locked the door after Simon left. HE had NOT locked the door AFTER Simon left! Everything that had happened was HIS fault. If he had locked that bloody door earlier, none of this would have happened. None of it! He felt sick to his stomach and rushed back to the toilet.

Some minutes later he was splashing cold water on his face. He looks at himself in the mirror. He could make out where Dylan’s fingers had been pressing into the tender flesh of his throat. An even uglier bruise was forming on his cheek. Dylan’s marks were on his body again because he could not lock a bloody door! And there was no way to hide those marks from Simon or the rest of the band. They would press him until he told them what had happened and then they would know how weak and unfaithful he was. With a scream of disgust he threw the half empty beer bottle at the mirror, shattering it into jagged shards. He staggered away from the wreckage and back to the break room. Because he did not lock the door after Simon left. After Simon…

In the midst of his self loathing one name rang clear as a bell. Simon. What if he had locked the door after Simon left? Dylan had seen them in the garden. What would he have done if he had not been able to get into the studio? Would he have maybe gone after Simon? Was Simon okay? He staggered out of the door towards his car parked out back. He didn’t even bother to close the door.


	3. I've Been In This Grass Here

John jumped out of the car as soon as he put it in park. He sprinted up the front stairs to the door to find it locked. At least Simon had the intelligence to lock the door behind him. As John fumbled with his keys the door opened. 

“I was beginning to worry,” Simon said. John barreled into Simon, clutching him to his chest. Relief washed over him.

“Simon’s all right. Simon’s all right. Simon’s all right,” rang through his head like a mantra. “Simon’s all right.” He caught the singer’s lips in a bruising, desperate kiss. “Simon’s all right.”

“Whoa!” Simon gently pulled back from the kiss. “What’s got into you? Feeling a little randy?” John just kissed him again desperately. Simon walked them into the living room, returning the kiss.

“All right, “John mumbled, “All right.”

Simon broke off the kiss, “What?”

“You’re all right,” John stated and dove back in for another bruising kiss. Simon pulled back.

“What do you mean? Of course, I’m…” In the better lighting of the living room he saw John’s face. “John! What happened to you?” he asked in alarm, turning John’s face to better see the damage. The entire cheek from his jaw line to his eye was turning a purplish-black.

“You’re all right,” John said, again trying for a kiss.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Simon wrapped his arm around John’s shoulders and steered him into the bathroom were he could get a better look at the damage. Under the harsh lights over the mirror, Simon could see that John was in shock. John reached out to touch Simon’s chest and simply stated, “You’re all right.”

“Yes, I’m all right. Let me look at you.” He gently lifted John’s chin up to get a better look at his face. When he did so, he saw John’s throat for the first time. He softly touched the younger man’s throat to verify that the marks were actually made by someone’s fingers. He felt anger build inside of him. Someone had touched John against his will. Someone had hurt his John! Someone had left his marks on what Simon considered his.

John was startled when Simon touched his throat and took a step back. He felt, rather than saw, Simon’s anger. John stood stock still, barely daring to breathe. Simon was mad at him. Simon was mad at him for being weak and stupid. For being stupid enough to not lock the door after Simon had left. He was too stupid to lock a door and too weak to defend himself. Now Simon knew what a stupid weakling he was and he was rightfully angry at him. John braced himself for the punishment he knew he deserved.

Simon pushed his anger aside. Getting angry was not going to help John, who was standing an arm’s length away, staring blankly ahead. In the brighter light Simon could see other marks – bruises, scratches- on John’s arms and hands. His hair was mussed up, his shirt torn and pants not done up right. And John stood shaking in fear, staring at nothing. Simon cursed himself. He should not have let his anger show like that. All he was doing was scaring John more than he already was. Simon took a calming breath and centered himself.

“Johnny, baby. Shhh! It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” He made no move towards the traumatized young man, scared of frightening him even more. “John,” he tried again, trying to make eye contact. John continued to stare straight ahead. Simon took a small step closer. No reaction. He closed the space between them. “Baby?” He stared into John’s beautiful brown eyes, now dulled by pain and fear. He gently touched John’s chin. John gasped and blinked several times, his eyes darting around the small room before focusing on Simon. His bottom lip started to quiver and his eyes filled with tears.

Simon opened his arms, “Come here, baby,” he said softly. John fell into his arms and started to sob. Simon just held him. He asked nothing, he said nothing. He simply was. John needed someone to hold him while he emptied his system of the fear that was coursing through his veins since hearing Dylan’s voice for the first time in over a year. Fear first, they would deal with the other emotions and pain later. Right now the fear was smothering him and he needed to release it somewhere he felt safe. This bathroom in the house he shared with Simon was his safe place and Simon was his anchor during this storm. Simon was simply whatever John needed right now.

John’s world contracted to Simon’s arms. The fiery anger he had felt from Simon earlier was gone, replaced by a warm blue silver glow that enveloped both of them. John had never felt so safe, had not even thought that he could ever feel like this, or that he deserved to feel like this, since he first started dating Dylan four years ago. He let go and just sobbed turning his mind off. He didn’t double guess his feelings. He didn’t deny his fear and while bathed in Simon’s blue silver he admitted that he was afraid and accepted his fear. And he knew that right now he had no reason to fear.


	4. Puts another Rattle in Your Brain

Simon held John until his tears stopped. John made no attempt to move away. Simon just held him.

“Johnny?” he whispered softly.

“Hmmm,” John replied.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and into bed, okay?”

John simply nodded. Simon hesitated, he did not know for sure, but from the stated of John’s clothes he believed that there had been some sort of sexual assault. The mere thought of someone touching John against his will sickened him.

“Would you like to take a bath?”

“Yes.” The word was barely audible.

“Do you need help undressing?”

“I, I don’t think so.” Again whispered.

“Let me know,” Simon turned to the tub and ran the water. Next to him, John pulled his shirt off. Simon didn’t want to stare, but John’s gorgeous body was half naked next to him. He berated himself, the last thing John needed right now was to be leered at. But, he did need to know how badly John had been hurt. He kept his face neutral and his gaze clinical. There were more bruises and scratches at John’s waist line, right were his belt buckle and trouser button were located. The button was missing, confirming to Simon that John had been sexually assaulted.

“Johnny, baby, were you raped?” he softly asked.

“No,” John answered without emotion. John turned his body to the side and Simon averted his eyes to give John a little privacy to remove the rest of his clothes. He bent over to check the temperature of the bath. He straightened up and turned to find John standing naked in front of him. John was staring at the floor, chewing on his lower lip. Simon couldn’t help by gasp in shock. John’s member was bruised and swollen, covered in scratches and with some raw patches. His balls didn’t look much better. Even his upper thighs were bruised. Once again, Simon felt his anger flare. John flinched and whimpered. Simon tamped down his anger and John relaxed.

“Oh, Johnny!” he said softly. John started crying.

“Do you want to get into the tub?” John nodded and with Simon’s help, sank down in to the hot water. The water felt wonderful over John’s abused skin. He bit his lower lip and tried not to cry in front of Simon again.

“Would you like some privacy?” Simon asked.

“Yes, please.”

“Okay. You know where I’ll be. Just call me.” He kissed the top of John’s head and walked out of the bath, closing the door behind him. He let out a sigh and blinked away tears of his own. How horrifying it must have been for John, alone and helpless. How many were there? How did they get in? And who were they?

Inside the bathroom, John let his tears fall again. He felt so dirty and now Simon was mad at him. Simon’s anger had struck his mind like a red hot knife. How could Simon bear to hold him when he was so dirty? Taking the cloth, he lathered it up and started scrubbing his body clean, starting at the top of his head and ending between his legs. It hurt to scrub his abused member but he had to get Dylan off of him, he had to be clean. He lost all sense of time as he scrubbed. He was so dirty that he couldn’t get clean no matter how hard he scrubbed.

Simon poured himself a drink. He probably should not be drinking at a time like this but, damn; he needed something to steady his nerves. His emotions were all over the place. He was horrified of what John must have gone through. He was furious that someone had the nerve to assault John in such a way. He was heartbroken to see the state John was in. He was hurt that he didn’t know what to do about the situation.  
He had to control his emotions. John had always been sensitive to the emotions of others. When he had gotten angry at whoever had done this to John, John had physically flinched away. It was almost as if John could feel the emotions of others so he had to be in control of his. He finished his drink with a large swig. He considered making another but decided against it. John needed him sober tight now. He sat down to wait for John.

After 30 minutes Simon became worried. He hadn’t heard anything from John since he got into the tub. He decided to go and check on the younger man. He knocked on the door.  
“John?” No answer. “Baby?” Still no answer. Simon bit his lip trying to decide if he should give John his privacy or not. Given John’s current mental state he opened the door.

John was still in the bath, scrubbing between his legs.

“Johnny?” Simon came to kneel next to the tub.

“I can’t get clean!” John cried. He continued to desperately scrub.

“Johnny, stop. You’re not dirty.” Simon gently placed his hand on John’s arm, stopping his actions. He took the rag out of John’s hand and tossed it into to sink as he stood to get a towel off the rack.

“Come here, baby,” he said, holding the towel open. John shakily got to his feet and stepped out of the tub and into the towel. It was gently wrapped around him. He clutched tightly at it, water dripping from his legs onto the floor. Simon grabbed a second towel and dried his legs and feet. After he finished drying John, he held him to his chest, concentrating on his love for the other man. John leaned back into Simon’s embrace. After several minutes, Simon scooped John up into his arms and carried him to their bed. 

John had spent the time being hugged soaking up the feelings of love that emanated from Simon. The warm blue silver glow was back. He let himself be lifted and carried down the hall. Simon laid him on the bed and gently removed the damp towel. He then covered John with the sheet.

“I’m going to get some pain numbing cream. I’ll be right back.” Simon left the bedroom and returned to the bath. He came back with the tube of cream.

“John,” he asked as he sat on the side of the bed. “Do you want to put this on or do you want me to do it?”

“You please,” John responded in a whisper.

“Okay. Let me know if you want me to stop.”

With a deep breath, Simon pulled the sheet down and got his first real look at the damage that had been done. He stifled a gasp. John’s crotch was bright red and purple. John had scrubbed himself so hard there were places were the skin had been rubbed off and blood was oozing. With a deep breath, Simon gently applied the cream to the injured areas. John had closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see the look of disgust that he was sure would be on Simon’s face. When Simon touched him, he gasped and stiffened. “Charlie.” He told himself, “Charlie.” He said again. He kept repeating the name, reassuring himself that it was Simon touching him now. He continued this mantra until Simon was done.

Simon worked as quickly as he could and still be gentle. He kept his touch asexual so as to not scare John. When he was done he put the tube on the bedside table and wiped his hands on the discarded towel. He pulled the sheet and blanket over John’s shivering form. Simon hoped that the shivering was caused by the temperature in the room and not from him touching John.

“Hey, are you alright?”

“No,” John answered softly, “Could you please stay with me?”

“Of course, baby, “Simon stripped down and put on a pair of boxers before climbing into bed. He settled next to John leaning his back against the head board. “Try and sleep,” he said to John. John said nothing. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. His battered body yearned for rest but his traitorous mind would not quiet itself. Every time he closed his eyes he would hear Dylan’s mocking voice and, worse, he would feel Dylan’s hands on him again. Every time he did manage to fall asleep his nightmares woke him after only a few minutes of rest. Simon did his best to comfort him, but he could not erase John’s memories. After an hour of this torment Simon thought of a solution.

“Johnny, I’m going to get you a Seconal so you can sleep.” John nodded sleepily. Simon rose from the bed to fetch the medication and a glass of water. He returned to find John sitting up in bed, his head in his hands. “Here,“ Simon said, “Take this.”

John took the pill and swallowed it with a large gulp of water. Simon took the glass and placed it on the bedside table. He sat on the edge of the bed next to John. The traumatized man leaned into him and he opened his arms to hold him. There were no tears this time, John simply rested in the safety of Simon’s embrace, waiting for the reds to work its magic. It took several minutes, but he finally fell into a dreamless slumber. Simon held him against his chest for a while longer, listening to his breaths as they evened out, making sure he was asleep before laying him back down and covering him with a blanket. He climbed back onto the bed, getting comfortable leaning against the head board. The reds should keep John knocked out but Simon planned on keeping vigil this night to ward off the nightmares that would certainly try to assault John tonight.


	5. Shadows All Through Me Shudder Away

The night passed uneventfully. The reds did their job and John slumbered in a chemically assisted, undisturbed sleep. Simon kept vigil, leaving only to use the toilet or to make himself tea. Most of the time he spent sitting on the bed next to John, watching him sleep interspersed with pacing the room and stretching. Most of all, he had time to think. He was furious that someone would hurt John like this. John had finally been sleeping without nightmares these past few weeks. His self esteem was higher than Simon had ever seen with him and he finally looked healthy. Simon thought back to the time shortly after they had managed to convince him to leave Dylan. John, no, Nigel had been a wreck, jumping at shadows, keeping the blinds closed so no one could see in, not venturing out, hardly eating and tormented by flashbacks and nightmares. He began cutting himself. Simon was so worried about his mental state that he moved John into the spare bedroom of his flat. It had taken time, but John had seen significant progress over the past fourteen months. During those months their friendship had grown into something more, love. Now some bastard had undone all of it. 

Early the next morning, not long after the sun had risen, the phone rang. Simon quickly picked up the extension and went out into the hall so as to not disturb John but still be able to keep an eye on him.

“Hello?”

“Simon, its Nick, is John with you?” Nick sounded panicked.

“Yeah, he is,” Simon answered.

“Is he okay?”

“No, Nick, he isn’t. He was attacked last night and was sexually assaulted.”

“I know.”

“How…?” Simon was dumbfounded.

“I’m at the studio now. I couldn’t sleep last night so I came into the studio. When I got here the back door was open and I could see that the break room had been ransacked, so I called Samuel. When he got here, we went in. The break room is a mess. The mirror in the bathroom is shattered. And studio itself, well, some of the stools and mic stands have been knocked over and John’s bass was lying on the floor. You know he would never leave his bass lying on the floor; he always sets it in its stand.”

“How did you know he was attacked?” Simon interrupted.

“Samuel has motion sensor cameras set up here by the soundboards, in the studio and in the hallway. We went to see what the tapes showed.”

“Did you see who it was? How many were there?”

“Simon, there was only one person, Dylan.”

Simon felt as if the air had been knocked out of him. Dylan. John’s abusive ex-boyfriend that he and the rest of the bank had rescued him from was back. No other person could destroy John so completely.

“I want to see those tapes, Nick,” he stated grimly.

“I really don’t think you should,” Nick began.

“Look, Nick, I have to know what that bastard did to him if I’m going to help him. He says he is dirty. I found him scrubbing off whatever skin he had left after what that scumbag did to him. He had scrubbed himself so hard he was bleeding. The only reason he is asleep right now is that I gave him a red. I need to know this.”

Nick was silent for a moment. “If you really need to know then I can’t stop you. But, I have to warn you, it’s a really tough watch and I don’t know what damage was done to him.”

“God, Nick, he’s covered in bruises and scratches. You can see Dylan’s fingers on his throat, that’s how hard he held him by the throat. He left bruises where his fingers were! I don’t what s going on in that head of his, he hasn’t said anything about the attack to me, I’ve just seen the damage that was done. He won’t make eye contact, he isn’t talking, he’s crying all the time. Sound familiar?”

“Yeah, that’s how he was at the end of his relationship with Dylan,” Nick sighed. “I’ll make sure Samuel doesn’t erase these tapes.” Nick was silent for a few minutes. “Simon?” he stated.

"Yeah?"

“Should we call the police, turn over the tapes to them?”

Simon rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I don’t know if John will ever be able to testify against him in court. He’s an absolute wreck. I don’t think that I have seen him so scared, not even after we rescued him from Dylan the last time.”

“We need to get him into therapy this time. I don’t think we can totally help him with this now,” Nick commented.

“Yeah, you’re right. We can only do so much. He needs professional help.”

“When do you think you’ll be able to drop by?”

“To be honest, I don’t know. He’s still asleep and I can’t leave him alone right now. I’d be scared of what he may try to do. And I don’t think bringing him back to the studio right now is a good idea, either.”

“Look, Roger and Andy will be here soon. I’ll fill them in and we’ll come over to watch John for you.”

“That would be great. Come when you’re able to.”

“Right, see you soon.”

“Bye.”

Simon hung up. He leaned against the door frame, looking at John’s sleeping form. He walked over and sat at the edge of the bed beside John. He brushed a stray lock of hair out of his face.

“Don’t worry, Johnny, you don’t have to tell me what happened until you are ready to. I’ll watch that tape and see what happened myself.” He bent over and kissed John on his forehead before going to make another pot of tea.


	6. Discord and Rhyme

Nick hung up and rubbed his temples. He could not believe what was happening. John was finally starting to be like the way he had been four years ago, before Dylan. And now this. He was sure that all the progress that John had made had been ripped from him. John was going to need all of them to get through this and he wondered if he had it in him to give John what he would need. Damn, he needed a drink. He stared into the studio through the glass from the sound board. He should go and get John’s bass off the floor. But, what if they did call the police? They would want to come in and see the crime scene. The crime scene. _*How odd*_ he thought, but that was exactly what it was, a crime scene. He shuddered. Still he could not sit here and leave John’s beloved bass on the floor. After all, according to the tape, Dylan never touched the bass so there would be none of his prints on it. Having made a decision, he stood up and entered the studio.

He stopped just inside the door. A chill swept over him, it felt that he was adding to John’s pain and torment simply be being in the same room, as if he was an accomplice to the crime. Nick took a deep breath and purposefully strode over to the bass lying neglected on the floor. He picked it up and looked for signs of damage. A string was broken and there was a dent in the body where it had hit the floor. Other than that, the bass appeared to be intact. Nick wondered if John would ever be able to banish the fact that he had been holding this bass when the attack began. Would he ever be able to play this bass again? He picked up the rag John had been using and carefully wiped the bass down after lying on the floor all night. He placed the bass in its stand and quickly left the room.

Once back in the booth he berated himself for becoming so emotional in the studio. He was the Controller, damn it, and he was in control of his emotions as well. Being distraught over something that had not happened to him was not how he should be handling this matter. But, it had happened to the man that he loved like the brother he never had. John felt the same way. Even though Nick was two years younger he had taken on the roll and responsibility of the “older” brother. He was the guiding force, counseling John and protecting him from the bullies that had dogged him while in school, especially after they had begun dressing in feminine clothes and wearing makeup during the New Romantic scene. Nick was still furious with himself for not protecting John from Dylan. He should have worked harder to dissuade him from getting into a relationship with a man who was eight years his senior. But, he reminded himself; in the beginning Dylan had been charming, charismatic, caring and considerate. He had maintained that façade even after the abuse became apparent, at least around Nick and the rest of Duran. The believed John’s excuses as to why he had multiple bruises, scrapes and cuts covering his body. John was a clumsy person, after all. Hell, he had even shown John how to conceal the bruises with makeup so no one would notice. Nick was sickened by his contribution to John covering up the extent of the abuse.

Before his memories could lead him into self loathing Andy stepped into the booth.

“Nick?”

Nick started out of his thoughts. “Oh, hi, Andy.”

“What’s happened here? The place is a mess and Sam told me to talk to you.”

“Is Roger here?” Nick asked, turning to face Andy.

“No, not yet, he should be here soon.”

“I would like to wait until Rog gets here. I just want to tell this story once.”

“Okay,” Andy sat on the couch but not before seeing the wreckage of the studio.

As they waited for the drummer to arrive, Andy watched Nick. There were tear stains on his cheeks and his eyes were red. He had obviously been crying, and the Controller never cried. Something bad had happened. A cold feeling settled into Andy’s stomach. They only had to wait for a few minutes before Roger arrived.

“What’s happened here?” he asked as soon as he was in the door. He surveyed the scene in front of him, Nick obviously distressed and Andy worried. “What’s wrong?”

“I have something to tell you both,” Nick began, not looking at them, a sure sign that he had very bad news to tell them.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Charlie and John?” Roger asked.

 _*That’s right!*_ Andy thought, straightening up. * _Nick said that he was waiting for Roger, not Charlie and John!*_ the feeling in the pit of his stomach got colder.

“What I need to tell you involves John and as a result, Charlie.”

“Are they okay?” Roger interrupted, still standing just inside the door.

“No, John isn’t and Charlie’s dealing with the aftermath.”

“What happened?!” Andy could not keep quiet any longer.

“Samuel has motion sensor cameras throughout the building,” Nick told them pointing out the camera in the corner of the booth, “When they detect motion they start recording.” He took a deep breath, “John was attacked here last night and sexually assaulted.” He made eye contact with Andy for the first time the guitarist had entered the booth. “It was Dylan.”

Roger sat down heavily on the couch next to Andy. Andy was sure that Roger’s expression matched his own. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“The attack was recorded,” replied Nick. He looked at the two sitting opposite him.

“How?” Roger asked his voice tinged with anger.

“I’ll show you the tapes, if you want,” Nick replied, looking from face to face, “It’s not an easy watch.”

Andy looked at Roger, Roger nodded. “Yeah, we want to see it. This way we all know exactly what went down.”

“And we won’t have to wait until John is well enough to tell us what happened,” Roger stated.

“We can help John a lot better if we know the details. And he may never be able to tell us the details,” Andy added.

“What about Charlie?” Roger asked, “Doesn’t he want to see this, too?”

“Simon doesn’t want to leave John alone and I agree with him that having John come back here today would be a bad idea,” Nick stated. Roger and Andy nodded in agreement. “I thought that after the two of you watch this we could head over to their house and stay with John. That’ll give Charlie a chance to come here,” he added.

Andy took a deep breath, “Let’s see those tapes.” He stood and took a seat closer to the monitor with Roger following. Nick turned back to the board and started the tapes. Four scenes opened up on the screen.

“The hall,” Nick pointed to the scene in the upper left corner of the screen, “the break room,” upper right, “The booth,” lower right, “and the studio,” lower left. “Here, at 9:06pm you see Simon come in the front door and come into the booth. At 9:07 he’s in the studio. He leaves, goes down the hall and enters the break room. He goes outside at 9:08 and stays outside for ten minutes. He and John come back into the break room at 9:18. You see the come down the hall to the front door and by 9:21 John is alone again and in the studio, picking up his bass.” Nick pointed out the relevant scenes on the screen before them.

“After this, only the studio camera remains filming until 10:04. The break room door opens and someone wearing a dark jacket with a hood pulled low enters. He comes up the hall and enters the sound booth and triggers the camera at 10:07. He stays back by the door until 10:25 at which time John is done and he turns his back to the door to wipe down his bass.

“That’s when Dylan makes his move. This is where it gets tough to watch,” Nick said as he stood up and stepped back from the panel. He had no desire to watch the attack a second time.


	7. Shake Up the Picture, the Lizard Mixture

Sixty two minutes and twenty seven seconds later the tapes ended. Roger wiped tears from his eyes. Andy felt anger boiling inside of him. He quickly got to his feet, slamming the chair he had been sitting on backwards, hitting the couch. He angrily paced the small room, fists clenching and unclenching.

“I can’t believe we aren’t free of that psycho! I thought he was gone for good after the last time. What do we have to do to get rid of him?”

“Call the police. Bring charges against him like we should have after he nearly killed John that last time,” Roger stated, wiping his eyes while still staring at the blank screen.

“Hell, yeah, I’ll testify against his ass,” Andy spit out.

“Me, too,” Roger said, finally turning away from the monitor.

“I think we all would, all of us except John. I don’t think he’ll ever be able to testify against Dylan,” Nick said tiredly from where he was sitting by the door. Andy stopped his pacing in front of him.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“You saw it for yourself, as soon as he heard Dylan’s voice he froze. He’s so terrified of him he could barely fight back. In the end, he responded the way Dylan wanted him to. He’s so scared of Dylan that he regressed almost immediately. I don’t think he will ever get over his terror enough to testify against him.”

“You don’t think our testimonies will help convict this maniac?” Andy asked, still angry.

“I don’t know, Ands, I don’t know,” Nick rubbed the bridge of his nose; “We’ll talk to Simon and maybe consult a solicitor.”

Roger spoke up, “Let’s get to their house. I’m sure Charlie is wondering where we are.”

John woke slowly from the blessed oblivion of his drugged sleep. The room seemed brighter than when he usually awoke _. “What time is it?”_ he wondered. He cracked open his eyes to see the clock but without his glasses he couldn’t make out the digital numbers on the clock. He rolled over to get a better look and the pain hit him. His eyes flew open and slammed shut at the brightness of the room. He curled onto his side, gasping in surprise at the level of pain he felt, especially between his legs. Why did he hurt so much? He swallowed thickly and his throat hurt. He raised a hand to his throat and found that it hurt more to touch his throat than to swallow.

“Char…Charlie?” he rasped.

“John?”

“Nick?” John blinked, trying to focus on the figure in front of him. He swallowed and asked again, “Nick?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” Nick replied, “Here,” he handed John his glasses. John took them with a shaky hand and placed them on his face, brushing his bruised cheek. He gently felt the swollen tissue.

“What’s happened?” he asked, still groggy from the Seconal.

Nick blinked in surprise. He knew from past experience that he needed to tread lightly. John waking up and not remembering the previous night was not unusual in and of itself; what was unusual was him not remembering that previous night when he had not been drinking hard, doing drugs, or both. John would remember the traumatic events as flashbacks, which could get violent, both for himself and others around him. “What do you remember?” he asked as calmly as he could.

John thought hard, “I was at the studio working on that bass line. Charlie came to see me. He, umm, gave me some inspiration.” An adorable blush came across his face at that. He went quiet for a moment. He remembered Simon hugging him, kissing him. He remembered getting down onto his knees giving Simon their first blow job. How cheap to do it in the back garden of the studio where anyone could have seen them, rather than the privacy of their own home, he recriminated himself!

And that thought was all it took. Memories of Dylan hit him hard. He felt as if he had been physically struck, like he had been hit by a freight train. He lurched backwards, hitting the headboard with a hollow thud. Nick jumped back slightly from the edge of the bed. John was huddled along the headboard, his breaths coming in jagged gasps, his eyes wide in terror and his hands clutching at the edge of the mattress. The blanket that had been covering him had fallen away exposing the damage done to his body. Nick couldn’t help but gasp in shock. The bruises were so much larger and darker, deep purple to almost black, the scratches longer, deeper and a deep, dark red. He quickly composed himself, after all, he is the Controller, always composed and collected, even when he did not have the slightest idea of what to do right now.

“Johnny! Johnny! Listen to me! You’re safe; you’re in your bedroom, in your house. He isn’t here!” Nick spoke loud enough to get John’s attention but not so loud as to frighten him more than he already was. “Johnny!” he moved so he was in John’s line of sight, “Johnny! Look at me!” he tried again, this time capturing and holding John’s gaze. “You’re safe, look around. You’re in your own room, in your own bed. You’re safe.”

John’s eyes darted around the room, always returning to Nick’s eyes. He loosened his grip on the mattress and slipped back down to a lying position. Nick covered him with the blanket and John clutched it to his chest. His breathing returned to normal, as his eyes continued to dart around the room.

“Where’s Charlie?” he asked hoarsely. He raised his hand to his throat to rub but quickly stopped because of the pain.

“He had to step out for a little while. He asked me to come and sit with you. Ands and Roger are with me as well. Would you like a cup of tea for your throat?”

John nodded, warm tea sounded delightful. But, he could not help but feel as if Nick was trying to change the subject as to Simon’s whereabouts. He was too tired to and sore to challenge Nick on the subject right now.

Nick went to the door and called for Roger and told him that John would like some tea. Roger nodded and retreated down the hall to get a cuppa.

Nick waited until Roger returned and took the cup of tea to John now reclining on the bed with the blanket pulled up to his chin. Nick handed the cup to John who shakily held it to his parched lips and carefully sipped, letting out a sigh of relief as the warm liquid soothed his swollen throat. He carefully placed the cup on the bedside table and lay back pulling the blanket back up to his chin again, covering his battered body from Nick’s eyes. He tried to relax. Nick was right, he was safe, he was in his own room, in his own bed, Dylan wasn’t here and… John’s brow furrowed in confusion. He sat up again.

“Nick?”

“Yes?”

“Who were you talking about?”

“When?”

“A little while ago, you told me I was safe, that I was in my own room and my own bed and that he was not here. Who did you mean? It wasn’t Charlie.”

Nick ran his hand through his reddish-orange hair, unsure what to say. He looked at John, who had tears in his eyes.

“You know, don’t you?” John whispered, cheeks burning with shame.

“Yes. Yes, I do know. So does Andy and Roger,” he sighed.

“How?” John’s voice was barely a whisper.

Nick looked down at his lap. “Samuel has motion sensor cameras throughout the building,” he finally said, looking back up to John, “Everything was caught on camera.”

“Just in the building? Not outside?” John could not keep the rising panic out of his voice.

“Just inside, nothing outside,” Nick was confused by this question. He was even more confused by John’s reaction to his answer.

John relaxed somewhat at Nick’s answer. At least his shame of not being able to respond to Simon was not on view for everyone to see. “Is that where Charlie is now?”

“Yes,” Nick replied.

At that John curled up into a ball and started to sob. They knew. They all knew. He couldn’t decide what was worse, having them know his shame at not being able to respond to Simon or his shame at how he responded to Dylan. It didn’t matter. They now knew how stupid, weak and unfaithful he was. How dirty he was. Nick quickly moved to the side of the bed and tentatively placed his hand on John’s arm. John jerked his arm away.

“How can you touch me? I’m so dirty and filthy!” he cried out.

Nick was shocked at John’s outburst, but it said a lot about the other man’s mental state. He also remembered Simon’s words from earlier: _“He says that he isn’t clean. I found him scrubbing off whatever skin he had left after what that scumbag did to him!”_ Nick knew John well enough to know that he was blaming himself for all of this.

“John! This does not make you dirty. You did nothing wrong!”

John quickly sat up again. “Nothing?” he cried, “I did nothing wrong? How can you say that? I’m so stupid! I didn’t lock that back door after we came in! I let him in! It’s my fault that he got in because I’m so stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid…” With each “stupid” John hit himself on the side of his head with his fists. Nick scrambled to grab hold of his wrists and to keep him from harming himself anymore but that was difficult as John was the stronger of the two.

“Stop it, John, stop it! You are not stupid!”

John continued to struggle and chant, “Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid…” Nick was losing the battle and had no idea how to calm John down. But then, he was being pushed out of the way, barely keeping himself from falling onto the floor. He breathed a sigh of relief. The cavalry had arrived in the form of Simon Le Bon.


	8. My Head Is Stuck On Something Precious

“John! Johnny, baby, look at me!” Simon grabbed hold of John’s wrists tightly, “Look at me!” John continued to struggle.

“Let go!” he rasped, trying to wiggle free.

“Johnny,” Simon lowered his voice, trying to make eye contact, “Look at me.” John finally met Simon’s clear blue eyes. “You are not stupid,” Simon told him, “I didn’t lock that door, either.”

“Charlie, you shouldn’t be touching me. I’m dirty,” John replied, tears running down his face.

“Oh, Johnny,” Simon let up on his grip on the other man’s wrists, “You’re not dirty.”

John pushed on Simon’s chest trying to push him away. “How can you say that? You saw how unfaithful I was towards you!” He was sobbing now.

Simon sat back in shock, “You didn’t cheat on me!” he exclaimed, “You were assaulted. You didn’t give him your consent to do what he did to you. You fought back…”

“Yeah,” John snorted, “I really fought back! I was begging him to let me come. I can’t even get hard with you but I come for him. That makes me a real faithful boyfriend, doesn’t it?”

Simon placed his hands on John’s arms, John jerked them away. “John, I saw the tapes, I saw him attack you. He manipulated you. I saw the look on your face, even when you were coming, you didn’t enjoy at all, did you? He put you into a position and a mindset that left you no choice but to end it the way it did. You did not cheat on me!”

John stared at him in confusion. In his tortured mind Simon should be beating him, or worse, right now. That is what Dylan would have done.

_Nigel saw Dylan loom over him._

_“You lying little shit! I saw you with that fan! I saw how she looked at you! And I saw how you encouraged her!” Dylan slammed him into the wall. As he stumbled to his knees, Dylan grabbed his burgundy hair and pulled him half way up. Nigel could neither kneel or stand, he was deliberately kept off balance.”Do you really think that I don’t know what the two of you got up to when you both disappeared?”_

_“I swear to you Dylan! Nothing happened! I didn’t go off with her! I wasn’t flirting with her! She said that she liked my hair and all I said was thanks and I kept walking towards our practice room! I don’t know where she went! Please! I didn’t go off with her! I don’t care about the fans like that. I only care for you. Please, forgive me!” Nigel begged, trying to diffuse the situation. Dylan hauled him up to his feet and let go of his hair. As he staggered, Dylan back handed him hard enough that he was knocked to the floor. He cowered before the larger man. “Please, don’t hurt me,” he begged._

_Dylan crouched down before him and gently caressed his face. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly, “But I do have to punish you. I think making sure you can’t sit for a few days will be a fitting punishment. Get up!” Nigel quickly scrambled to his feet. “Strip,” Dylan ordered. “Go into the bed room.” A naked Nigel meekly went into the bedroom to await further orders._

_Dylan took his time, like he always did. Nigel could hear him going into the kitchen and grab a beer out of the refrigerator. He could hear the other man moving through the kitchen and up the short hall. Even though Nigel was standing with his back to the door, he could feel Dylan’s eyes upon him. The larger man liked to admire his “artwork” as he called it. He knew that the marks from their “fun” a few nights ago were faded but still there. Dylan always said how stunning the marks (bruises, welts, cuts and scratches) looked on his pale skin. He was trying hard not to tremble under Dylan’s gaze. He waited quietly for his orders._

_“On your stomach,” Dylan said softly. Nigel crawled onto the full sized bed and lay down. He knew what the next command would be but didn’t dare move until told to. “Grab the bars.” He grasped the bars on the iron headboard. “Spread your legs.” He complied. Dylan stepped up to the bed and ran his fingers up Nigel’s inner leg, from his ankle to his balls. The larger man’s hand finally rested on his ass and gave it a squeeze. He rose and Nigel heard him enter the closet. His body shivered uncontrollably. What could he be getting out of the closet? He returned soon enough._

_“Lift your head.” Nigel did so, craning his neck backward. “Open your mouth.” He felt a hard rubber ball forced between his lips and into his mouth. The leather strap was buckled behind his head.”This is going to be bad!” Nigel thought. Dylan did not want to hear him plead and beg. He swallowed hard. He felt Dylan stand up and retreat a few feet from the bed. Nigel didn’t dare look over his shoulder. He heard Dylan pull his belt through the belt loops of his jeans._

_“Don’t tense!” he desperately told himself, “Don’t tense! He gets mad if you anticipate.” He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. He could hear Dylan standing beside the bed. Nigel felt himself holding his breath._

_CRACK! The belt hit his ass. Nigel jerked in shock but didn’t lose his grip on the bars. His back arched up and he let out a cry of pain. CRACK! CRACK! Two more strokes. Tears were in Nigel’s eyes. There was a pause, then several more CRACKS of the belt. The belt next struck the back of his thighs. Dylan was really making sure that he would not be able to sit for awhile. The blows continue, concentrated between his waist and his knees with a few stray hits to his shoulder blades. Nigel’s cries were turning into screams. Despite it all, he kept hold of the bars. If Dylan had to stop to tie him to the bed he wouldn’t be able to stand straight for several days. He did not want to experience that again._

_Nigel’s world had shrunk to the red hot sting of the belt and the icy hardness of the bars he gripped. His ears were filled with his screams. And, still, he did not struggle. After what seemed like hours the beating stopped. Dylan sat down panting on the bed next to him. Nigel laid limp and sobbing on the bed. He felt Dylan undo the straps of the gag. He spit out the ball. Dylan ran his hands through Nigel’s hair. He stood up and Nigel heard him undoing his button and fly on his jeans._

_“Please, no!” Nigel cried to himself. Not that, not now. Maybe, maybe, Dylan just wanted a blow job._

_“Hands and knees, now!” Dylan barked. Nigel cringed but got into position with some difficulty. Dylan grabbed his hips and pulled him closer to the edge. He placed his large hands on Nigel’s abused buttocks. Nigel let out a cry of pain. Dylan laughed and reached between the younger man’s legs to stroke him. Much to Nigel’s shame, he started to grow hard. Dylan laughed. “Pain gets you hard, doesn’t it? Get the lube,” he ordered, slapping one abused cheek._

_Nigel let out a cry of pain but crawled to the nightstand, opened the drawer, got the bottle of lube and crawled backwards to Dylan. He handed the bottle to the other man and got back into position. He heard Dylan open the bottle, squirt the lube on his fingers and then the slick, cold fingers were shoved into him. There was no foreplay, no gentleness. This wasn’t for his pleasure, it was for Dylan’s. The fingers were removed and Dylan grabbed his bony hips as he lined up his cock with Nigel’s puckered hole._

_Nigel felt the hardness press up against his entrance. He desperately tried to relax his body but to no avail. Dylan forced his way in, ripping a scream from Nigel. Dylan did not give him a chance to adjust, pushing into the hilt. Another scream was ripped from Nigel as he felt like he was being ripped apart by Dylan._

_Dylan gripped his hip bones tightly and set a grueling pace, thrusting in and out roughly. Nigel was screaming in pain, “Please! Stop! Stop! Stop!” Dylan of course did not listen and just thrust harder and faster, ignoring the other man’s pleas and screams for him to stop. Dylan reached around and grabbed Nigel’s cock, stroking in time to his thrusts. To Nigel’s shame he grew hard quickly. He was reduced to a sobbing mess._

_“Come for me, Nigel.” And he did._


	9. A Drowning Man’s Coming Up For Air

“Simon? What’s wrong with him?” Nick asked his eyes wide with fear. He stood beside the bed, unsure what to do. John was sitting stock still, breathing erratically, eyes darting but not seeing anything around him.

“He’s having a flashback. A bad one,” Simon stated softly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Has this happened before?” Nick was beginning to feel panicked and the Controller was never panicked. He had never seen John like this, never, and it scared him. It scared him a lot.

“Yeah,” Simon answered, “but this is the worst I’ve seen him.”

“What do we do? How do we snap him out of it?” Nick was starting to pace, something the Controller never did.

John began to thrash around on the bed. His lanky limbs tangled in the blanket seemingly causing him to panic even more. Nick had never felt more helpless. He has seen, and talked John down from, panic attacks but this was so much worse. John started screaming. He was pushing his body into the wooden headboard desperately, as if he was trying to escape from whatever he was seeing in his head. Nick had no doubt that John was reliving some horrific event from his past with Dylan. He felt sick to his stomach. He had been there throughout John’s relationship with that bastard. Why hadn’t he seen how toxic that relationship was? Why had he not seen the signs of violence? Nick realized that he had been witness to the death of Nigel. He started calling himself John after he was free from Dylan. He never responded to Nick when the latter called him by his given name. He would only respond to John. How many times did Nick not notice the pain in Nigel’s eyes? How many time he laughed at Nigel’s clumsiness that left those bruises and left him so sore and stiff that he couldn’t hold his bass?

Nick was brought out of his self-recriminations by the arrival of Roger and Andy. They had heard John screaming and rushed to the bedroom when the screaming got worse.

“What’s happening?” Andy asked.

“He’s having a flash back,” Simon answered, taking his eyes off of John momentarily to address Andy, “One of the worst I have seen.”

“Can we do anything about it?” Roger asked.

“No. Touching him right now just makes it worse. And he doesn’t seem to hear when he’s this deep.” Simon returned his attention to John. John was sliding along the headboard towards the other side of the bed. Simon quickly moved to that side, ready to catch John if he should fall off the edge.

John screamed again, followed by desperate pleas.

“Please! Stop! Stop! Stop!” He twisted around so he was facing the wall, curled up into a ball and hands gripping the wooden post of the headboard. “Stop! Stop! Please, stop!” he sobbed out.

Simon felt a small sense of relief. John crying in the past meant that the flashback was nearing the end. He had stopped screaming and was sobbing hard, his desperate pleas getting quieter. Soon he stopped talking and buried his head in his arms and continued to sob.

“John?” Simon scooted closer, still not touching the man in front of him. “Johnny? Baby? Can you hear me?” John continued to cry. “You’re safe,” Simon continued, talking softly and calmly, “You’re home, you’re with me. And Nick and Ands and Rog are all here, too. It’s just a memory, a bad memory. It can’t hurt you anymore.”

John was starting to calm down. He was resting quietly along the head of the bed. Nick had to wonder if he had fallen asleep after that emotional outburst. None of them moved. No one wanted to scare John more than he already was, so they quietly waited. John finally turned his head and looked blurrily at the person before him. He could just make out the blonde hair. It was not Dylan, then. That left one other person.

“Charlie?” he asked softly

“Yeah, John, I’m here,” Simon tentatively placed a hand on John’s arm. John did not flinch away.

John’s heart was pounding and his breathes came in shallow gasps. He was confused. Dark memories flitted about his mind. He felt as if he had run a long distance. His memories did not match his current surroundings. His body ached but not like it had just a short time ago. The bed was wrong. The post he gripped was wood, not iron. Wasn’t he on all fours just a moment ago? Now he was curled up at the head of the bed. Something bad had happened but he wasn’t sure if it just happened or if it was a memory of the past. He tried to focus on Simon.

“Come here, baby,” Simon said, softly, opening his arms. John scooted over, letting Simon embrace him. Simon was here, Simon was safe, Simon would protect him. He curled up in Simon’s lap, resting against his chest.

Simon tucked John’s head under his chin and wrapped his arms tightly around him. John relaxed against his chest. He was still scared and unsure, Simon felt him grab hold of his shirt with his fists, clinging to him. His breath was slowly evening out

“Here,” Nick said softly, wrapping a blanket around John’s naked form.

“Thanks,” Simon replied, pulling the blanket tightly around the young man in his lap. John snuggled closer and Simon started to hum softly further soothing him.

Nick took a deep breath and straightened. Simon seemed to have things under control. “We’ll let ourselves out,” he softly said. He felt much more in control now.

“Don’t,” Simon answered, lifting his head to look up at Nick. “We need to talk. Get us something to eat. Chinese would be good. I don’t think we’ll be here long. He’s calmed down a lot.” There was no movement from John.

“Okay,” Nick nodded, slipping back into the role of the Controller again. He motioned to Andy and Roger to follow him out of the room. Once in the living room Nick headed straight to the bar and poured himself a drink. He downed it in one gulp and poured himself another. He took a big gulp of the second drink. When he went to take another gulp a hand on the glass stopped him.

“Slow down, Nick,” Roger said taking the glass out of his hand, “We need you sober right now.”

“I’m fine,” Nick stated, reaching for his drink again.

“No, you’re not,” Andy said from behind him. He handed a beer to Roger.

“So it’s okay for you two to drink but not me?” he sniped. How un-Controller like. What is wrong with him?

“We are drinking beer, you are doing triple shots of vodka,” Roger stated. “Since when has Nick Rhodes done triple shots of vodka? He usually sips wine.”

“Since he saw his best friend melt down and couldn’t do anything about it,” Nick answered softly. He reached for his drink again.

“No, no more vodka for you. If you want alcohol sip some wine. Or a beer,” Roger said taking the glass away. “John isn’t in control of his flashbacks but that doesn’t give you the right to lose control through alcohol. We need to stay in control to help him.”

“You’re not handling any of this stuff about John very well,” Andy said, taking a sip of his beer. “I think I finally got to see Nicholas Bates today.”

“What do you mean?” Nick stiffened and turned to look at Andy.

“What he means is that you were very upset in there. Nick Rhodes, the Controller, wasn’t in there. Nicholas Bates, the best friend of Nigel Taylor was in there,” Roger told him.

“That wasn’t John, that was Nigel who was reliving whatever hell he went through,” Andy added. “You were the most upset I have ever seen you at the studio today. Why? You didn’t hear me come in the first time you were so gone somewhere. It was scary. I actually left and came back in louder this time so you’d hear me. You had tears in your eyes. I haven’t seen you cry once, not even when John almost died because of that bastard. Now I’ve seen you with tears in your eyes twice in one day.”

“I did not have tears in my eyes!” Nick tried to defend himself, the Controller did not cry.

“Yes, you did,” Roger said, moving closer to Nick. “Andy’s right, you are very upset over this, more so than a year and a half ago. You’re losing The Rhodes’ stoic façade. I agree with Ands, that was Nicholas Bates in that room not our dear Controller, Nick Rhodes.

“It’s not important,” Nick tried to change the subject.

Roger and Andy looked at each other. Taylor telepathy. Do they push Nick now or later? Later was the unspoken decision. They backed off, for now, and gave Nick his space.

Nick took a deep breath in as the two Taylors stepped back. He knew this was not over but for right now he did not have to answer their questions, questions that he had personally was avoiding in his own head as well.

“Charlie said to order Chinese. There’s a drawer with menus in it next to the fridge. Would one of you go and get it? I’m going outside for a smoke,” he left the two and went out into the back garden.


	10. Breaking Open Doors I Had Sealed Up Before

Simon was humming. Simon was holding him and humming. The humming was vibrating from Simon’s chest into John’s head resting upon it. It was a calming sensation. John felt the hum and heard the heart beat of the man who was holding him. Simon. How long had he been holding him? This flashback had been bad. He did not want to remember these events, there was a reason they had been repressed. He was resentful at having these forgotten memories forcibly brought to the forefront of his mind. He shifted his weight a little. Simon tightened his grip on him.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m… doing,” John answered. He was unsure how he felt and didn’t want to figure out exactly what his feelings were right now.

“You can do better than that,” Simon cajoled.

John did not answer. He was enveloped in a blue silver glow again. He was safe. He did not want to leave this cocoon for the cold, dark world.

“John, baby, are you still with me?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Let’s get you dressed. Do you want to take a shower?”

“Yeah,” John sat up and brushed his fringe from his eyes. Simon was struck by how young and vulnerable he looked. Simon helped him stand and walked with him to the bathroom.

“Do you need help?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I’ll get you a cuppa. Call me if you need me.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Simon waited until the door closed and the water was running before he left the bedroom. He entered the kitchen to find Roger, Nick and Andy sitting at the table.

“How is he?” Andy queried.

“He’s in the shower,” Simon replied, moving to the tea kettle. “We’ll be out in a few.” He fixed John a cup of tea and went back to the bedroom and put it on the bed side table. He heard the shower turn off and wondered for a moment if he should wait for John to come out or should he go in and offer his help. He was still making up his mind when the door opened and John walked out, a towel around his waist. He gave Simon a shy smile before dropping the towel.

“How bad do I look?” he inquired.

“Let me see,” Simon walked over and turned on the lamp on the dresser. “Look up,” he instructed. John’s neck was mottled purple and red the finger imprints clear. His cheek was such a dark purple that it looked black and was so swollen his eye was partially closed. Bruises mottled the skin on his chest and arms, along with bright red scratches. He did not want to look any lower but knew he had to. With a deep breath he brought his eyes lower. The purple/black bruises and bright red scratches were evident along his waistline and lower, standing out from his pasty white skin. Simon wondered how he could walk. His cock and balls were red, bruised, scratched and swollen.

“You look like you were assaulted,” Simon replied honestly. “Do you want some more cream?” John nodded. “Do you need some help?”

“I don’t think so,” John rasped.

“There’s some hot tea on the table,” Simon pointed out.

“Thanks,” John took the cup and sipped at the hot liquid. The warmth soothed his swollen throat.

He picked up the cream from the next to the cup. Simon moved to leave the room but John stopped him. “Stay, please,” he asked.

“Okay,” Simon sat on the bed. He turned his head to give John some privacy and waited. It was not long before John spoke up.

“I’m ready.” Simon got up and saw that John was wearing a baggy sweater and a pair of sweats. “And I’m hungry,” he added.

“I asked Nick to order Chinese. Hopefully it will be here soon.” John nodded but made no move to leave the room.

“Come here,” Simon opened his arms. John quickly stepped between them, wrapping his arms around Simon’s torso. Simon held him gently, close to his body. John laid his head on Simon’s shoulder. He stayed there for a minute of two then raised his head and took a step back.

“Let’s go,” he said. Simon took his hand and led the way.

Three heads turned as Simon and John walked into the kitchen. John could feel their eyes on him. He kept his averted as Simon steered him to the chair next to Nick, Simon taking the one between him and Andy. He sat down cautiously, believing that it would be painful to sit on the hard wooded chair. He was genuinely surprised when it did not.

An uncomfortable silence descended on the kitchen. Simon placed a Pepsi in front of John. He kept his eyes on the bottle. The only noise was the shifting of bodies on chairs until John’s stomach grumbled loudly in the silence.

“Glad to hear you’re hungry, JT,” Andy burst out laughing, “You should see the feast Nick has ordered.” The tension had been lifted and small talk about the food ordered and the weather ensued. The promised food soon arrived and John surprised himself with how much he ate. The conversation was easy and relaxed; no mention was made of the events of the last twenty four hours or of recording or studio work. Time for all of that later.

After dinner was cleared away, fortune cookies passed out and fortunes laughed at, the five retired to the living room with their drinks and took a seat. The mood had grown grim again.

“You want to know what happened, don’t you.” John sighed.

“Yes,” Simon answered, “but, if you want, you and I can do it in private.”

“No, you saw what happened, right? On those tapes?” John queried, not looking at them. The others responded with “Yeah” and “Uh-huh”

“Then you know how I cheated on Charlie and what a dirty, stupid person I am.”

The others all burst out with exclamations of how it was not true, that he had not cheated, that he was not stupid or dirty, etc.

“John,” Simon grasped John’s arm, “How can you say that?”

John appeared truly confused. “You saw me come for him! I can’t for you but I can for him. I begged him to let me come and when he told me to, I did! How was I being faithful to you?”

“Did you give him permission to touch you? I clearly heard you say no and asking him to stop. I saw you try to run and I saw you struggle…”

“Did you see me give in? Did you see me stop struggling? Did you hear me scream as I came? If I was faithful to you I would have been able to resist. If I wasn’t so dirty I would never have come. And if I wasn’t so stupid this would never have happened!”

This outburst stunned the others. They had no idea that John had such a low self image of himself. There was a rush to convince him that he was not stupid, that he was not dirty, that he was not unfaithful. He could feel the wave of emotion coming at him from four directions – shock and surprise foremost with an underlying current of anger and disgust, exactly what he had expected to feel from those around him. He felt that he was in a maelstrom of colors – green and brown and gold and black and silver and blue. He felt as if he were drowning and no longer knew his emotions from the strange emotions beating against him. He curled into a ball and covered his head with his arms and whimpered.

Suddenly, the blue silver glow was around him and he felt a welcome pair of arms pull him close. Simon. Simon was there with love and acceptance that he did not feel he deserved. He could tell that Simon was speaking but he could not hear his words. He leaned into the embrace and shut his eyes.

“Okay, mates, just calm down!” Simon ordered, pulling John into his arms. He could feel the other man shaking. He took a deep breath and centered himself, concentrating on the love he felt for John and he imagined himself sending those feelings to him. To his delight, John calmed almost at once. He bent to speak in John’s ear, “You’re safe, baby, no one here is going to hurt you. I love you. Remember that, I love you.” John turned and clung to him.


	11. Feelings Are Good (And Other Lies)

Nick mentally kicked himself. He well knew about John’s sensitivity to the emotions of others. And he caught himself projecting his anger about Dylan. Like Simon, he took a couple deep breathes and recomposed himself.

“You’re right,” he stated, “Us getting worked up won’t solve anything. It obviously upsets John. He has always been sensitive to the emotions of others, especially strong or negative ones.”

Roger and Andy agreed. Roger got up to make some tea and to give everyone, including himself, time to cool off. He had not known Nigel before his time with Dylan but the relationship was still new when he had joined the band. Nigel was a nerdy, shy, gangly young man with glasses and too much hair in his eyes. That cut jaw and a smile to die for, Roger found Nigel to be very easy on the eyes. It was also obvious that he was smitten with his boyfriend of a few months, one of the bouncers of the club.

Dylan was an opposing man. At 6 feet 8 inches, he was a foot taller than Roger’s 5 foot 8 inches. Well built, steely gray eyes and black hair that he wore long, he seemed very protective and genuinely happy with Nigel, sharing easy laughs and teasing with him and Nick, especially about Nigel’s clumsiness. If he hadn’t seen Nigel stumbling over his own two feet or frequently fumble with wires and leads and pics, he may have seen trouble sooner. But, Nigel was clumsy and the fact that he was painfully shy covered what was, in reality, evasive behavior. By the time Andy and Simon joined the band in early 1980, Nigel and Dylan’s relationship was different, but did not all relationships change over a period of time? Dylan could still pour on the charm and was able to put on a convincing act of being Nigel’s loving, caring boyfriend, always nearby, always asking Nigel what he was doing, where he was going, who would he be with or who had he been with. Very much a part of Nigel’s life.

Nigel was changing,too, becoming more withdrawn, wearing more make up that was only covering up more bruises. Nigel’s clumsiness was getting worse as well. He once fell down the stairs and could not stand up straight for days afterwards. Nigel was drinking more and had started using cocaine. They were all using blow but Nigel was seeking it out more and more. As Nigel continued to spiral downward Dylan became cold and contemptuous of him and the rest of the band. Andy and, especially, Simon never took to Dylan. By the time the five of them played their first show together in July of 1980, Dylan was openly hostile to all of them, including Nigel. They had all seen Dylan strike Nigel on occasion and now knew that the bruises he worked so hard to conceal were not all from his “clumsiness”. By the time they signed their record deal with EMI in December, both and Nigel and Dylan were gone. Nigel now called himself John and Dylan had left for parts unknown. And, now, all these months later, Dylan was back. Was Nigel back as well?

The tea kettle whistled and Roger hurried himself with making the tea. By the time he had finished, he had his emotions back under control. He put the pot and cups on the tray and carried it out to the living room.

Andy excused himself to have a fag in the back garden. Never one to hide his emotions, he was struggling to keep his anger contained. Nick was right; John had always been sensitive to the emotions and feelings of others. It was if he could physically feel other people’s emotions. He had noticed in the past that if someone was angry around John, he would physically flinch away from that person and start to complain of a sudden head ache or of feeling sick to his stomach, sometimes both. Likewise, if someone was happy John would become almost giddy around that person. Once he was away from that angry or happy person he would return to normal. Sometimes a distance of only a few feet was needed, other times he had to be in different room.

Andy took a drag from his fag. He looked through the window into the living room. Roger was in the kitchen making tea, Nick had excused himself to use the loo and Simon and John were still seated on the sofa. Simon’s arms were around John; John was clinging to Simon’s shirt, his head tucked under Simon’s chin. Simon’s face was calm and his love for John shone in his eyes. John was no longer shaking and appeared much calmer. Looking at John, Andy remembered why he had stepped out here, to calm himself down.

He remembered his first meeting with Nick, Roger and Nigel. He had thought that Nick and Nigel were a couple; they both appeared to be poofters and were wearing way too much makeup in his opinion. He did not know it then, but Nigel was wearing that amount of makeup to hide his latest bruises. He didn’t meet Nigel’s non-makeup wearing boyfriend until the following night and took an immediate dislike to the larger man. He found him to be overbearing and disrespectful to Nigel. When he asked Nigel why he was still with the bouncer, Nigel responded that no one cared for, or took care of him like Dylan did. Dylan supported him, took care of him and loved him for who he was. No one loved him the way Dylan did. Dylan had brainwashed the young man into believing that he actually loved Nigel and that everything he did was out of love and in Nigel’s best interest.

Andy had not been at the Runner for a week when he witnessed Dylan’s “love” and “best interest”.

_***Andy was heading back to one of the store rooms when he heard voices coming from an empty room. At first he smiled to himself and wondered who had gotten lucky tonight. As he got closer he recognized Dylan’s voice and he did not seem to be happy. Andy slowed down, the hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end. He heard a second voice, briefly before he heard a beefy smack and a cry of pain. Nigel! Andy burst into the room. Nigel was on the floor in front of the bouncer, holding his face. Blood was dripping from his split lip. He looked terrified._

_“Oi! What’s up here?” Andy quickly ran over to Nigel._

_“Stay out of this, you damn Geordie!” Dylan growled._

_“I’d suggest you leave!” Andy snarled, “C’mon, Nigel, let’s get out of here.” He helped Nigel to his feet and out of the room.***_

Andy shook the thoughts from his head and lit another fag. John was whimpering again. Damn! How strong was his anger if John was feeling it in another room? He needed to calm down. He turned and took a short stroll to the bottom of the garden and back, smoking yet another fag. By the time he came back into the living room he was much calmer.

As Roger headed for the kitchen and Andy towards the back garden, Nick disappeared out to the private garden after a brief visit to the loo. He lit up a fag as soon as he got the door closed behind him. To see John in such pain, again. Dylan had really messed him up, again.

Nigel was an innocent (yes, innocent) lad, trusting and loving, and, in hind sight, the perfect victim for a sadist the likes of Dylan. Nigel’s inexperience meant that he didn’t know what any relationship should be like, not even a healthy relationship. Dylan took advantage of that.

Nick’s first impression of the giant of a man, a full twelve inches taller than he was, was that he was a player, a bed post notcher. He didn’t think the older man would stick around for anything other than a short term relationship. Dylan would chat them up, both together and apart.

_***”Hey, Nicholas,” Dylan strode up to the DJ booth one afternoon._

_“Hiya, Dylan! What can I do for you?”_

_“I’m worried about Nigel.”_

_“You are?”_

_“Yeah, he wears his heart on his sleeve, ya know? I’m worried that someone will take advantage of him and really hurt him. I think we need to keep an eye on him.”_

_Nick nodded in agreement. “He does, doesn’t he? Yeah, I’d appreciate it if you would do that.”_

_“Don’t you worry; I’ll see to it that he’s okay.” Dylan gave him a charming smile and sauntered away.***_

Nick covered his mouth. “I gave him permission. I actually gave that monster permission to look after him!” Guilt overcame him at that realization. How could he ever face John again? He sat down heavily and buried his head in his hands.


	12. I’ll Be Your Homing Angel I’ll Be in Your Head

“How are you feeling?” Simon quietly asked when they were alone in the room.

“Safe,” John answered honestly. The emotional storm was dying quickly around him. The colors from earlier had coalesced and drifted apart, brown gold to the kitchen, blue black to the back garden and green gold to the front. Blue silver remained with him, with Simon he realized. The blue silver was always with Simon. The colored changed, sometimes strong, sometimes faded, sometimes the pleasant blue silver of right now. He only felt love and acceptance and peace at this moment, all coming from Simon. Were the colors actually Simon’s emotions? How could that be? And if the blue silver was associated with Simon were the other colors he had seen associated with the others? It was too much to think about right now. He just wanted to enjoy the glow as much as he could before the other band members came back and the interrogation began again.

Simon was content to just sit there with his man. HIS man. HIS partner. HIS other half. He tamped down the anger he felt for Dylan for hurting John so bad. Bringing that anger up seemed to upset John. It was almost as if he could feel Simon’s anger physically but how could that be? Simon pushed that question out of his head. Right now he just wanted to show John his love for him. John stiffened and whimpered. Simon held him tighter and sent all his love to surround John. He saw Andy through the window. Andy turned and strode towards the back of the garden. As Andy walked away, John relaxed. Did John just feel Andy’s emotions? He forced that thought out of his mind for now and just concentrated on John.

Roger quietly entered the room and placed the tray down on the table.

“Cuppa?” he asked Simon. Simon nudged John.

“How about it?” he asked.

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” He sat up. Roger made him a cup and handed it to him. Roger raised an eyebrow to Simon. Simon nodded and Roger made him a cup as well. Simon settled back into the corner of the couch. John cuddled up next to him.

“How are you feeling, John?” Roger asked as he fixed himself a cup.

“Better, I’m feeling better. Thanks.” John answered almost shyly, leaning back onto Simon’s chest.

“Good.”

They sat in an uncomfortable silence awaiting Andy and Nick. Roger saw Andy strolling back up to the house and gave him a brief nod. Andy nodded back and headed inside.

“You’re looking better, JT,” he stated, taking a cup from Roger.

“Thanks,” John replied, a shy smile ghosting his lips. Once again silence descended. Nick did not appear. After several minutes Roger got up and told the others that he was going to look for him. He knew that the other man was not in the kitchen or back garden and a quick check proved that he was not in the loo. That left the front garden.

Roger opened the door and almost fell over Nick who was seated on the front stoop.

“Hiya,” he stated, looking down at Nick’s reddish orange hair. “What’s going on?”

Nick looked up at him with guilt filled eyes. “I gave him permission to look after and take care of Nigel.”

“What?”

“I gave that monster permission to look out for Nigel. I didn’t tell him to stay away from him; I encouraged them to be together. All this time I’ve been beating myself up because I wasn’t persuasive enough to discourage Nigel from beginning a relationship with this man! I mean, Nigel’s only eighteen and Dylan is twenty six. Too big of an age gap, I thought. But, I gave Dylan permission to look after him.”

“How?”

“Nigel, I mean John, wears his heart on his sleeve, much more so back then than now. Dylan brought that up that we, him and I, should keep our eyes on Nigel so he wouldn’t end up being hurt in the wrong relationship. And I told him, yeah, that sounds good to me. I told him that I would appreciate it if he could look out for Nigel. How hypocritical of me! On the one hand, I’m trying to convince Nigel to put some distance between him and Dylan and on the other hand I’m encouraging Dylan to look out and take care of him!” Nick was up and pacing during this outburst. He finally stopped and covered his face with his hands.

Roger acted on instinct and wrapped his arms around Nick’s slim torso. Nick startled out of his self loathing.

“Roger? Wha…?”

“Shhh,” Roger replied softly, holding on, “Just relax and let go. You don’t need to be in control all of the time.” Nick allowed himself to lean into the embrace but would not cry, not right now that John was so bad off. He could cry later.

“Not here, not now,” he told Roger.

“Okay, but soon.”

“Yes, soon,” Nick agreed. They stayed that way for a few moments longer and then separated and went back into the house.


	13. What Glass Splinters Lie So Deep In Your Mind

Once everyone was back and seated again, John spoke up.

“He was punishing me,” he simply stated, “In that flashback, he was punishing me.”

“Why?” Simon asked.

“He thought that I had shagged a bird when we both left the floor at the same time. He didn’t believe me and said that he had to punish me.” He fell silent for a moment. “He said that me not being able to sit for a few days would be punishment enough.” He took a sip of tea and a deep breath. “I told him that I wasn’t interested in that bird, that I wasn’t interested in anyone but him, that I didn’t know where she went but she wasn’t in our dressing room. He said that I encouraged her flirting with me. All she did was say that she liked my hair and I thanked her for it! That’s all!” John was getting more and more agitated.

“Whoa, Johnny, we believe you,” Simon declared, tightening his grip on John, “Calm down, take a deep breath.” John was starting to shake. Simon was starting to feel afraid, though for what reason he was unsure. He to a quick look around and the other three also seemed to suddenly be uncomfortable, fidgeting in their seats, taking deep breaths, eyes darting left and right. Simon knew he had nothing to fear right now so he did his best to ignore that sensation. “Breath, Johnny, breath,” he softly crooned into John’s ear.

John listened to Simon’s voice and took deep breaths. He was with his closest friends, Nick, Andy, Roger and, of course, Simon. His anchor and his rock. He calmed down. He did not have to prove his faithfulness to any of them. They knew his history with, and after, Dylan. They had helped protect him from Dylan, helped him get away from that mad man finally. And Simon had done much more, he had taken John in when he had nowhere to go, when he felt he had no one to turn to. When he had woke up in the hospital, Simon was the one sitting next to his bed. The others were nearby but only one person was allowed in the tiny ICU room at a time. Simon stayed nearby during his recovery, keeping Dylan away from his bedside, insisting that John come home to his flat. They all took turns staying with him and helped keep him sane during that time. When he thought about it, he owed these people his life. There was no need to be afraid around them. With these thoughts, he quickly calmed down.

Simon felt his body unclenching as the fear faded and left. By the looks of it, the others were relaxing as well. Bloody hell, that was John’s emotions that he had been feeling, that they all had been feeling! If he could feel John’s emotions then could John feel his, theirs? He did not have much time to think about this as John had started talking again.

“I asked him not to hurt me. He said that he wasn’t going to hurt me but that he had to punish me.”

“You said he was going to make sure you couldn’t sit down for a few days. What did he do to you?” Nick wondered if he really wanted to know the answer.

“He used his belt. It felt like forever. He gagged me so I couldn’t beg him to stop because he only wanted to hear me scream,” John narrated in a monotone, his eyes on the cup in his hands. “So I screamed for him. But he didn’t stop until the bruises were black in color.”

“Damn, John!” Andy exclaimed with a shake of his head. Roger was staring straight ahead, clenching his jaw. Nick had his hands over his face. Simon kept a tight rein on his emotions; he would not get upset now. He merely put his cup down and wrapped his arms around John’s chest.

“Then,” John spoke up again, “he rewarded himself of doing my punishment so well. He raped me.”

Simon tightened his arms around John and buried his head on John’s shoulder. He felt as if he had been punched in the gut. And by the looks of it the other three felt the same way. What surprised Simon the most was the way John was telling his story. No emotion at all. He was speaking in a monotone still, no infliction with his voice and with his words.

“John, did he beat you often?” Andy questioned.

“Yeah and not only as punishment, he liked how his marks looked on my body. So when they faded he had to give me new ones.”

“Blimey, John! How did you manage to endure all of this?” Nick cried out.

John looked up, surprised. “Because he really did take good care of me.”

“When he wasn’t beating you,” Andy snorted, “or raping you, either.”

“I deserved most of those punishments,” John whispered, looking down again.

“How?!” Andy just about exploded. “How did you deserve those punishments? What did you do?”

John appeared confused. “I didn’t obey him,” he explained, “I was belligerent; I provoked him; I…”

“What did you disobey? What did he want you to do that he felt he had to beat you as a punishment?” Nick argued vehemently. “You just told us that he punished you for something you didn’t do! How many other time did this happen to you?”

John faltered; “I didn’t obey him…” he began again.

“John, how didn’t you obey him? What did he want to do that you didn’t want to do?” Simon asked firmly.

John visibly sagged against Simon, defeated. “ I didn’t clean like he wanted be to, I didn’t make the food right or it wasn’t on time, I didn’t wear what he wanted me to wear, he wanted sex, I…”

The others exploded at that comment.

“John!”

“What?”

“That’s rape!”

Andy was on his feet, pacing back and forth, gesticulating wildly. Roger was sitting forward, his hands clenching his hair. Nick was sitting straight up right; his fists clenched, his eyes dark with anger. In shock, Simon’s arms had loosened their grip on John. For his part, John curled up in a tight all away from the emotional storm around him. He was being assaulted on all sides by the colors from earlier; Blue, silver, green, gold, brown and black. No longer glows, the colors had coalesced into sharp, jagged bolts of light, jabbing, stabbing and lashing at him. As he felt Simon’s arms leave his thin frame he rolled off the couch and staggered to his feet and down the hall.

He barely made it to the toilet before emptying the contents of his stomach. Before he was done, he felt a pair of gentle hands lift his hair away from his face and neck. His head was pounding and he was shaking so badly he could barely hang on to the toilet.

“Tell them to stop!” he cried out to Simon, clutching his head, “Please! Tell them stop!”

“Who?” Simon was confused, “Tell who to stop what?”

“Nick, Andy and Roger! They’re angry and it hurts of much.”

“Okay, I’ll tell them to back off, alright?”

“Yes, please,” John whimpered.

Simon quickly got to his feet and rushed out to the living room. He could hear bits and pieces of their angry conversations.

“That bastard!” Andy exploded, “I’ll kill him if I ever see him again!”

“Get in line,” Roger growled.

Nick did not say anything, he just stared straight ahead, green eyes unreadable but he was clenching and unclenching his jaw.

“Outside! All of you! Out!” Simon bellowed as soon as he was in the room.

“What for?!” Andy prickled.

“Out! Right now!” Simon strode to the door and opened it onto the back garden. Nick rose gracefully from his seat and quickly walked out the door. Roger followed; Andy stopped pacing but did not move.

“Ands?” Simon gestured to him to follow the others. Andy capitulated and followed the others. Simon sighed and closed the door part way so he could hopefully hear John if he needed him.

“What…!” Andy started as Simon walked closer to them.

“He told me to ‘make them stop’! He was in so much pain that he was clutching his head because you’re angry. He can feel your, our, emotions and your anger hurts him.”

“How is that possible?”

Nick spoke up, “He’s an empath, he has to be!”

Simon deflated and sat on one of the lounges on the patio. “Yeah I think he is.”

“What’s an empath?” Andy asked.

“Someone who can feel the emotions of someone else,” Nick disclosed.

“And it appears he feels anger as pain,” Simon stressed. “We all need to calm down and stay as calm as we can be around him right now.”

Andy stopped pacing and plopped down next to Nick on the other lounge. “How long have you known he’s an empath?” he queried, looking at Nick.

“I didn’t know for sure until now but I’ve suspected it for some time.”

“And you?” Andy pointed at Simon accusingly.

“Only for the past few days or so, mostly in the past few hours.”

“Shit,” Roger spoke up from the edge of the patio, “If he feels pain with anger, what does he feel with positive emotions? All those times I thought he was high or drunk, was he just reacting to the emotions around him? Did we, did I judge him on something he has no control over?”

“I think we all have,” Simon sighed.

“Shit,” Roger sat down heavily next to Simon.

“And right now, he’s lying on the floor of the bathroom in pain and throwing his guts up. He knows you’re angry and he thinks you’re, we’re, angry at him, not about the situation he was in, not about Dylan, but at him,” Simon exclaimed.

“He doesn’t just feel the emotions of others, does he?” Andy quietly asked, “I suddenly felt scared earlier in there, when he was telling us what he had told Dylan, I was suddenly bloody terrified. Why? Did any of you feel that way, too?”

They glanced at each other and nodded.

“Damn it!” Roger burst out, “He can feel our emotions and we can feel his. What do we do about this?”

“We keep tight reign of our emotions and somehow teach him how to shield himself,” Nick finally spoke up.

“I have to get back to him,” Simon rose to his feet, “I don’t want to leave him alone for so long a time. He was really hurting.”

“Charlie, I don’t think this is something we can do on our own. This is the first I’ve heard of an empath and now we have to teach him to shield himself? We’re in over our heads here,” Roger exclaimed.

“I may know someone who can help,” Nick quietly answered, not looking up from his feet. Simon quickly sat back down.

“Nick?” he queried.

“There’s a doctor in Birmingham who says that she has worked with empaths before. Maybe we can get her to see him?”

“Could you make an appointment with her, as soon as possible?” Simon asked excitedly. “What kind of doctor is she?”

“A psychiatrist. She specializes in the study of empathy.”

“How did you find here?” Roger asked.

“I’ve suspected that John had some sort of empathic abilities for a while now. I knew that he would never look into this himself so I did some investigating and I found her. Dr Martina Lopez. I’ll ring her in the morning.”

“Yeah, do that. I’ve got to go and see how he’s doing,” Simon stood up again. “Don’t go yet, though. We still need to talk even if John is finished talking tonight, we need to talk about Dylan.”

“Okay, we’ll stay out here until you’re ready,” Andy answered.

Simon nodded and headed back into the house. He glanced at the clock on the wall and realized that he had been gone for thirty minutes. “Damn,” he cursed under his breath. He had not wanted to spend this amount of time away from John. He hurried through the empty bedroom to the door of the bath. He stopped in shock, the bathroom was empty. Simon quickly checked the master bed room, no one. Was he in the hall bath? No luck. Simon rushed through the house checking each room. The house was empty. He quickly rushed to the back garden.

“John’s gone!”


	14. Trading In My Shelter for Danger

John waited until he heard Simon order the others out. He hated lying to Simon, but he had to get away. They were all angry with him. He had disappointed them. And Dylan would be back for him. Who knows what Dylan would do to Simon or one of the others if they were here when that happened. No, better to leave. He quickly grabbed his boots, a light jacket and his wallet. Taking no chances he opened the side window of the bed room and carefully lowered himself to the ground. As he thought, no one was around. He started to run away from the house he and Simon had bought. He had no plan, yet, he just needed to get away. So, he ran, for how far he did not know, and then slowed down to a walk, gasping for air. He continued to walk aimlessly. He could not focus his eyes. He needed a bump at the least but would rather have a few lines of Grade A Colombian white gold. He had not had any coke since the day before Dylan had showed up unannounced. How long ago was that? One day? Two days? A week? He was so confused he no longer knew for sure. He wandered blindly for what seemed like hours before he found himself at the door of a house he had known well but had not been there in a few weeks. He stood on the stoop for several minutes, unsure if he really wanted to be here or should he turn around and run back to Simon. He was chewing on his cuticle when the door opened.

“Are you just going to stand there all day, JT?” a man asked with a laugh.

“I thought about it,” John answered honestly. He stepped into the dimly lit foyer and was led to the kitchen at the back of the house.

“Coffee? Tea? Something harder?” his host asked, turning to talk to John face to face. Too late John remembered the marks on his face and neck. “Bloody hell, JT! Who did this to you? Not Charlie, was it?”

“No, Gabe, no, it wasn’t Charlie. I’d like a shot of vodka. And…” he hesitated and looked at the kitchen counter, “can I have a bump?”

“You look like you could use more that a bump,” Gabe nodded to the bar in the other room, “Help yourself then come back and have a seat.”

“Ta, mate, you’re the best!” John hurried behind the bar. He poured himself a shot of vodka and then pulled what appeared to be a shot glass about a quarter full of sugar. His hands were shaking in anticipation. He quickly dipped the nail of his pinky into the powder and placed a small bump on it. Carefully, he brought the nail to his nostril and snorted it. He closed his eyes and savored the rush as it hit him. He opened his eyes and the pain he had been carrying seemed to ease. He craved another but did not want to abuse Gabe’s hospitality. He slammed his shot and headed back to the kitchen feeling energized.

Gabe was sitting with his back to the wall, sipping a cup of tea. “Fix yourself a cup or grab a beer if you want,” he offered as John entered the room.

“Ta,” John hesitated a minute before fixing himself a coffee. He sat across from Gabe.

“You in some kind of trouble, JT?”

“Um, yeah, a little, I guess,” John muttered, stirring his coffee. The euphoria of the bump was already fading. He really needed a line or two of the good stuff, not the blow kept behind the bar that had been heavily cut. His hands were shaking, he noted. How long had it been since his last hit?

“Haven’t seen you around much lately. You going elsewhere?”

“Nah, Gabe, just been trying to cut back a little.”

“From the way you’re shaking, I’d say you’re cutting back too hard.”

“Yeah, yeah, I think I am!” John sipped his coffee. “Gabe, I could use a refill,” he stated reaching for the small vial in his pocket. To his surprise it was just about empty. He was glad that he had stopped now rather than wait until he got…where? Where was he headed? He was not sure but he was going somewhere away from here.

Gabe took the vial and got up. He left the room and came back moments later with a small mirror, two lines neatly cut on it and a straw. He placed them on the table in front of John. “On the house, JT. You’re a good client and I take care of my clients. I’ll be back with your refill in a moment.” Gabe left the kitchen again.

John waited until Gabe was out of the room before dragging the mirror closer. He grabbed the straw, put one end in his nostril and the other aligned with the first line and snorted. He raised his head for a moment before repeating the sequence with the other line. He sat back in the chair inclining his head and pinching the bridge of his nose as he felt a nosebleed starting. The unpleasantness of that symptom was soon replaced by the feeling of euphoria and energy. He felt invincible, the solution to his problems suddenly clear. He was more certain than ever that leaving was the right thing to do.

“You look better already,” Gabe stated as he entered the room holding the now full vial.

“I feel better, thanks,” John smiled. Gabe sat across from him as he fumbled for his wallet, “How much?” he asked.

“Take10 % off,” Gabe placed the vial in front of John, “And, here, these are something new. MDMA, or Extacy.” John hesitated in taking the small envelope. “It’s a bonus for my best clients.”

“What’s it do?”

“Makes you feel wonderful. It enhances the euphoria you get from coke, it enhances your senses; you’ll love the feeling of your clothes on your skin, the wind in your hair, the sun on face. It’s the ultimate ‘Happy’ pill!” Gabe extolled. They completed the transaction and John took the vial and the envelope.

“How do you take it?”

“Let it dissolve on your tongue,” Gabe stood up. John rose, too, and Gabe escorted him to the door. “Don’t be a stranger,” Gabe clapped his shoulder amicably, “unless you got yourself another dealer.”

“Why would I do that? You’ve got the best dope for the best price. And you’re discreet about your dealings. I won’t get that anywhere else,” John assured the dealer. They shook hands and John headed out into the bright afternoon.

John started walking away from the dealer’s house, away from his own house; sure that walking away was the right thing to do. He had no real idea or direction to head in, he just walked away from the one place he thought he was safe. But he could not stay and face their disappointment and anger at him. And, Dylan knew where he was, so he was not safe there, was he? And Simon and the others were in great danger if he stayed. Dylan had told Nigel that he would hurt the others if they ever tried to keep him from Nigel. It did not occur to him that Simon, Nick, Andy and Roger had prevented Dylan form getting to him when he was in the hospital and afterwards. That they, especially Simon and Andy, would intervene during altercations between himself and Dylan and that Dylan never did anything to them. He would take his anger and rage out on Nigel and tell him, often in graphic detail, what he would do to anyone who “interfered” again. Nigel believed him and John had no reason to doubt Nigel’s beliefs on the matter. So, he left. To John’s bewildered mind it was the only logical choice. But, he had no plan, no idea of what to do next other than to keep moving.

He had run out of the house with only the clothes on his back, his jacket and his wallet. He had a couple hundred pounds on him, along with his credit and bank cards. It was late afternoon so he should find himself a place for the night. But first, he needed to relieve himself so he entered a nearby chip shop and used the washroom. Locking the door behind him, he pulled out the little vial and another small bag with a mirror, razor blade and a rolled up pound note. Two snorts later and everything was put away, except to the little envelope with the four mysterious pills. He weighed the envelope in his hand. Happy pills. Well, he could use some happiness right now. He took one pill out and placed it on his tongue. He tucked the rest deep into a pocket of his jacket and left the restaurant.

At first he felt nothing different from the usual rush that coke gave him. Then things started to change. It started with his clothes. He could feel every thread as it caressed his skin – strange but pleasant. The wind, where it blew against his skin, felt like delightfully cool rivulets of water. The fading light of the sun rippled across his face like a whisper kiss of a floating feather. He felt as if he could smell each individual drop of coffee at the shop across the road. He stood on the corner and just reveled in the sensation of scent and touch. His sense of sound felt overwhelmed. He could hear the undeniable joy of a small child’s laughter, the natural orchestra of the birds in the trees and the leaves rustling in the wind and the cacophony of motorized engines, horn blowing, the squeal of tires, even the roar of the planes overhead. He placed his hands over his ears and was almost deafened by the ticking of his watch. He pulled his hand away from his ears. As he did so, one hand passed in front of his eyes. The sun back lit the hand and he could see the blood flowing in the small veins in his hand.

The magic was shattered by the roar of a motorcycle. He needed to get somewhere away from the road. Trying not to get distracted by the almost blinding colors around him, he searched for an oasis from the sensory overload. There! Just up the road was a small park separated from the road by hedges and a small brick wall. He hurried over, trying to not be overwhelmed by the wonderful and awful sensations that walking produced. In the safety of the park he found a bench in the far corner sheltered by a towering oak. He carefully sat and looked up at the tree. He had never seen so many shades of green before and the fading light was rapidly changing those shades of green to shades of gray. He sat and just let his senses take over. He saw, heard, felt, smelled and tasted in ways he never had before. All thoughts about getting a room for the night had left his mind and he lost himself to the magic of Extacy.


	15. With Broken Glass for Us to Hold

“Where the hell would he go?” Andy exclaimed. “How could he have gone anywhere? You said he was in agony, that he couldn’t move!” he accused Simon.

Simon sat on the edge of the bed staring at the still open window that looked over the driveway. Blocked from the back garden by a fence, they would never have seen him climb out.

“Why would he leave?” Nick asked. He sat at the end of the bed, his head in his hands. His guilty feelings were overwhelming him. If only he had tried harder to keep Nigel away from Dylan in the beginning John would not have run away today. Now he was missing, who knows where, and the weather was set to turn cold and wet. He couldn’t help but feel that this was all his fault.

Roger was standing just inside the door taking in the scene before him, the still open window, Andy pacing back and forth, Simon sitting on the bed with a grim expression on his face and Nick looking like he was in anguish. As much as he was worried about John, he was also very worried about Nick. Nick was crumbling in front of their eyes but with the focus on John no one seemed to really notice what was happening to him.

“We have to go after him!” Andy stopped pacing and placed his hands on his hips, glaring at each of them, daring them to argue with him. No one took that bait. Instead, Nick spoke up.

“Yes, we need to go after him. Where do we start? Where would he go?”

“He couldn’t have gotten far on foot,” Simon spoke up. “Let’s split up and look for him. We’ll meet back here in an hour.” With that, he stood up and strode out the door, the others followed close behind.

Outside, they split up, each going in a different direction. Simon turned to the right from the front door, Nick to the left. Andy and Roger walked down the drive to the back of the house and each headed out, Andy to the right and Roger to the left.

Simon jogged down the residential street toward the local chip shop that they frequented. Maybe he was there Simon hoped against hope even though he doubted that John was hiding out there. Still he had to check everywhere. He was scared thinking of John’s current mind set. John was not thinking clearly. Who knows what he could or would do?

He entered the chip shop but John was not sitting at any of the tables. He went up to the counter and flashed a charming smile at the counter girl.

“Excuse me; did a man about my height with a blonde fringe wearing a red and black jacket come in here recently?”

The young lady thought for a moment then shook her head. “No, no one like that, I’m afraid.”

“Thanks,” Simon turned and left the shop. Back on the walkway he looked up and down the street. There was a chemist’s shop, the bank, a grocer and at least three pubs. The pubs! Of course! If John was headed any where locally, it would be to one of the pubs. He headed to the nearest one.

As he entered the darkened interior he stopped to let his eyes adjust. There were only a few patrons scattered about at this time of day, some at the bar and some at the booths that lined the walls of the establishment. John was not seated anywhere that he could see from the doorway. He was more familiar with the layout of this pub than the other two as he and John came here more often.

“Hello, Simon, it’s been awhile,” Scarlet, the bar tender greeted.

“Yes, it has been, luv,” Simon smiled as he walked up to the bar.

“What can I get you?”

“Actually, I’m looking for John. Have you seen him today?”

“Hmmm, not me, but I just got here. Let me ask Lucy if he was in earlier.” Scarlet headed to the swinging doors that kept the public out of the offices, kitchen and storerooms of the pub.

“Hey, Lucy!”

“Yeah?”

“Did you see John here today? Simon’s asking.”

A woman with blonde spiked hair appeared.

“Simon, darling, it has been a while,” she gushed.

“Yeah, Lucy, it has been. Have you seen John today?”

“As a matter of fact, yeah, I have. About 45-60 minutes ago I was putting the sign out front and he nearly ran into me. And I mean ran. He was running like he was being chased. He ran up to the light and turned left.”

“Ta, luv! Ta so much!” Simon spun around and headed out the door. He ran down to the stop light and turned to the left. He slowed to a stop. This was a much busier street with more pubs, restaurants and stores. Much more places to check, if John stopped at any of them at all. If he was running who knows where he ended up.

The hour was almost up, time to head back and regroup.

Roger hurried up the walk towards Andy.

“Hey, Ands!” he called out.

“Yeah?” Andy stopped and waited for him to catch up.

“No luck?” Roger fell into step beside Andy as the two walked up the drive.

“No. I checked all the pubs and no one has seen him.”

“Same here. I hope that Nick and Simon have had more luck than we did,” Roger sighed.

“Speaking of Nick,” Andy stopped Roger before they reached the house, “We already know that he isn’t handling this at all well. I’m afraid that this is going to push him over the edge.”

“Yeah,” Roger agreed, “He blames himself for Dylan going after Nigel in the first place. He told me that he gave Dylan ‘permission’ to look after Nigel and keep him safe from getting into the wrong type of relationship. Of course, that’s exactly what Nigel got into with Dylan.”

Andy shook his head, “I never thought that I would see our Controller like this. He’s trying so hard to suppress how much this is taking out of him.”

“Yeah. We’re going to have to keep a close eye on him as well.” Roger and Andy quickly walked up to Simon and John’s house.

Once inside, they found Nick seated on the loveseat with his head in his hands. How many times today have they found him in such a posture, Roger wondered. He had never seen Nick so out of control before and it worried him greatly.

“No luck?” Roger quietly queried. Nick looked up, startled and then shook his head.

“Nor you, either,” he simply stated.

“No,” Roger agreed. He noted the glass of wine in front of Nick. It was still ¾ full. At least he wasn’t pounding down triple vodkas. He sat down next to Nick and glanced over at Andy as he entered the room from the kitchen with two beers in his hands. Andy walked over to hand Roger a bottle. They never broke eye contact.

“Stop it! Both of you!” Nick burst out. “Damn Taylor telepathy. Can’t the two of you use that to find our missing Taylor?”

“Sorry, but it only works when we’re close together,” Andy sat on the arm rest beside Nick. “If it worked otherwise we wouldn’t be having this discussion.”

“Look, I know what this discussion is about. I can’t let John see me fall apart. He’s an empath!” Nick finally looked up at first Roger and then Andy.

“Do you really think you can cover up your real emotions from an empath?” Roger asked.

“You don’t understand!” Nick exploded.

“No, I don’t,” Andy admitted. “Tell us what’s wrong, why is it so important that you cover up your real emotions?”

“If he feels me distraught, he’ll try to make me feel better. It’s in his nature. Empaths try to heal other people’s emotions. To do that, they absorb the negative emotions of others and replace them with their positive emotions. How often has John gone out of his way to cheer somebody up, to calm them down?”

“You’re right, he does that all the time,” Andy nodded.

“Yeah,” Roger agreed.

“Have either of you noticed how he is afterwards? What he does or where he goes?” Nick looked from Andy to Roger and back.

“He usually heads for the loo or the bar or out for a fag,” Andy noted.

“Yeah, he needs to recharge after doing that. If he does it too often, too quickly, it drains him physically, like he is drunk or high. You asked yourself, Roger, if we were judging him of being drunk or high. Yes, we did just think of him as having a drinking of drug problem. But what if he was using drugs or alcohol as a way to get himself back to ‘normal’? He doesn’t know that he is making people feel better at his own expense. What if he was using to cover up the pain he feels after ‘cheering’ somebody up?" Nick explained.

“That would explain his presumed tolerance for drink and drugs. His emotional state is whacked out and he acts like he’s drunk and high. How often is he really drunk?” Roger wondered.

“How do you know so much about empathy and empaths?” Andy asked.

“I’ve been corresponding with Dr Lopez for about six weeks now. I was just trying to determine if John was an empath. She sent me some literature about empathy and empaths. They fit John like a glove. We have to find him and get him to see her and get his abilities under control before he burns himself out,” Nick stated grimly.

“What do you mean ‘burns himself out’?” Roger asked.

“An untrained empath such as John, who doesn’t know that he is taking people’s negative emotions away from them and replacing them with his positive emotions, and doesn’t know how to get rid of those negative emotions properly usually die young. They tend to self medicate to ease the pain and overdose. John’s been self medicating for years. And, in his current emotional state, who knows what he may do,” Nick solemnly turned from Roger to Andy. “We have to find him quickly before he does anything to himself.”


	16. All Shadowy Lined

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! Real life reared it's ugly head and physical ailments prevented me from writing and typing. Hopefully the next chapter won't take so long.

Not wanting the high to end, John fumbled with the small bag with the Extacy in it. He placed another pill in his mouth and savored the sensation of it dissolving on his tongue. He leaned back on the bench and looked up at the darkening sky. No stars tonight, only ominous clouds in spectacular shades of gray that swirled, collided and rolled over each other. He was so enthralled by the clouds that he did not notice the drop in temperature. How long he sat there lost in his senses he did not know. Darkness descended in all of its crystalline beauty. It took his breath away. It was like he could almost feel it on his skin. It was such a delightful sensation that he took off his jacket so more of his skin was exposed to the feeling. It prickled, but in a good way. A very good way, indeed.

Feelings of happiness wafted over to him as if on a breeze. He looked up to see a couple walking together down the main path of this little park, holding hands. There was a pink silver glow around the woman and a red copper glow around the man. John marveled at the colors that surrounded these two. He smiled at their happiness. He looked around him and saw other auras of color, some barely there, some as bright as a super nova. “People,” he realized, “those colors all belong to somebody.”

It was an epiphany. Every person, if he looked for it, had an aura of color around them. Some auras extended well beyond the area of the person it belonged to, others were barely there, a flickering outline of that person’s body. He turned back towards the couple who were now almost at the other end of the park. The feeling of happiness and love that he had felt was decreasing the farther away the couple was to him. He frowned at that. He didn’t want those feelings to leave him. Soon the couple was gone and so were their emotions.

It was then that he felt a new sensation, a prickling at the edge of his mind like pins and needles. The prickling was getting worse, becoming painful. Confused, he looked around and found the source. Three men were approaching him from behind. Time to get out of here, he thought. He grabbed his jacket and stood up.

“Going somewhere, pretty boy?” came from behind him. John jumped. How had they gotten so close so quickly? The prickling sensation had turned to pain just as quick, like red hot knifes stabbing him. It made his eyes water so he could barely make out the auras around these three. They were black, with angry swirls of red, blue and green, respectively. These men were full of hate and anger and it was being directed at him. He was paralyzed. His head felt ready to explode.

“I asked, are you going somewhere?” The man was right in front of him. He was as tall as John and probably outweighed him by fifty pounds and it appeared to be all muscle. The other two had split up, one beside the first guy and the other behind the bench.

John blinked. “Uh, yeah, I… I was going to look for a… a hotel … or something,” he stuttered. When had it gotten so cold? It felt like waves of cold water being poured over his skin, making it hard to concentrate on the men around him.

“And here I thought we would have us a little party,” sneered Number 1.

“Looks like he’s started without us,” Number 2 laughed.

“Are you high, pretty boy?” Number 1 asked.

John blinked at the man. The pain in his head was drowning out the men’s words. And he was so cold. Where was his jacket? He had turned his head to look for the piece of clothing when suddenly his head was jerked back to face the men. Number 1 had a hold of his jaw and kept John from moving his head. The man’s fingers were hot against his cold skin but the pressure on his jaw felt like it was being crushed. He staggered a step away from Number 1 and Number 2, the grip on his jaw letting go.

“I…I,” he stuttered, “I have to go.” He tried to scoot around the two in front of him. He never saw the blow to his stomach. He just felt the jab of pain that took his breath away. He could feel the pain radiating out from the center, blossoming from synapse to synapse. And what pain! This wasn’t the first time he had been sucker punched but it had never been this painful in the past. Before he could fully register what was happening, a hand tangled in his hair, pulling him upright. Damn! He had forgotten about Number 3. He swore he could feel each individual hair being pulled. His breath rasped through his teeth.

“Where’s your money, pretty boy?”

He flinched away from the grating noise in his ear. He was rewarded with a blow to the face. His lip split open, cell by cell, in a starburst of lightening pain and piping hot blood. Another starburst followed with blood now pouring from his nose. What happened next was a nightmarish sensation of hell. Hands were all over him, running up and down his torso, hands into his pockets, pulling and pushing and poking. He was pushed down onto the bench and his legs were being pulled on. He could hear thunder rolls of sound but no words could be made out at first. Some small, rational part of his mind told him that he was being mugged, that his wallet and boots were being stolen, but those thoughts became lost in the maelstrom of pain and fear that was encompassing him. Blows were raining down on him, but he could not tell from where. Words were now surrounding him, but they made no sense to him.

“Where’s his wallet?”

“Check his back pocket.”

“Got it!”

“Oi! Grab his boots!”

“Yeah, they’re new. Could get a pretty penny for them, eh?”

The physical torture was bad enough, but the emotional torture had him paralyzed. So much anger, rage and hate were pummeling his mind, blow after jagged blow. He was being hammered smaller and smaller and smaller. He could not take much more of this torment. And suddenly, he felt an explosion rip out from his mind. For a brief, wonderful moment, there was a void as everything around him, all pain, sound, sensations, emotions and colors were gone in a blindingly white flash. Then the darkness rushed back in. But this time, there was a difference.

The blows stopped, the emotions raining down on him where no longer anger and hatred but panic and fear. The three men were panicking over themselves to get away from something fearful, that none of them knew where it was coming from. They just knew that they had to get away from John.

John was lying in a puddle on the darkened pathway. When had it started to rain? His body was shivering, shaking, vibrating with the pain and the cold and the wet. He was alone, of that he was sure of. In a perverse way, he felt safe being all alone like this. The new pains he felt where from nature and his immediate environment. Rain was hitting his skin with needles of ice, piercing his skin to bloody ribbons, he was sure. The ripples in the puddle in which he lay, caused by the drops hitting the water felt like tidal waves where it hit his bare skin. The ground beneath him was so cold it felt as if it was burning his skin, and as hard as marble, bruising his skin from just laying on it. He should not be lying in this puddle in the rain and night, the small rational part of his mind was telling him. He should get up; find his boots and wallet and jacket. He was certain that the men had dropped those items in their haste to get away from him. He tried to turn his head and open his eyes to see if he could see any of those items lying nearby. Pain shot up and down his spine at the movement of his neck. He tried to lift his arms, to push himself up into sitting. The ground was so cold that his hands felt like they were on a red hot plate. He finally just lay still in the puddle, being ripped into bloody ribbons by the rain and being bruised by the unforgiving cold hard ground under him. Pure black darkness was calling to him with its siren song. The last thought he had before surrendering to the crystalline darkness was, “Simon’s going to be mad at me.”


	17. I Couldn't See From So Far

“We have the general direction he went in,” Simon stated.

“We’ve been into every shop in the first kilometer of that street,” Roger pointed out.

“Right,” Simon continued. “No one remembers seeing him this afternoon.” He took a bite out of his slice of pizza. He paced around the center island in his and John’s kitchen. The four of them had gathered there to re-group and re-fuel and work out a plan. It had been over 6 hours since John had run away and the weather taken a turn for the worse. The temperature was dropping and it had started to rain a couple of hours ago. Simon had noted that John’s new boots were gone but only a light jacket had been taken, too light and thin to give him protection in the current weather. Simon stared at the rain drops on the dining room windows. He turned his attention back to the kitchen. 

Roger and Andy had the phone books out with a local map. They were pin pointing which hotels were in the area they believed John to be in. Nick was sitting by himself, off to one side. He was staring blankly into his cup of tea. His eyes looked blood shot and he was paler than usual. He had not taken more than a couple of bites of his pizza.

“Nick? Are you okay?” Simon asked.

“Um, yeah, just a little bit tired,” Nick responded, looking up at Simon.

“No, Charlie, he’s not okay,” Andy spoke up. Nick glared at him.

“He’s blaming himself for not preventing Nigel’s relationship with Dylan,” Roger explained. Nick shot him a death glare and then looked down at his hands twisting in his lap.

“Nick,” Simon began.

“Stop!” Nick exclaimed, “Stop! I gave Dylan my okay for him to look after Nigel so that Nigel wouldn’t fall prey to someone who would just use and abuse him!” Tears poured down his cheeks as Nick finally lost his composure.

“Ni ck,” Simon began again but before his could get any farther Roger had pulled Nick into a hug.

“Let it out, Nick, let it all out,” Roger whispered into Nick’s ear,” Don’t hold back, let it all out.”

Simon stood back and looked on in confusion at his two friends. What had brought on such a reaction from Nick?

“Help bring this stuff into the living room,” Andy said softly, nodding towards the phone books and maps on the opposite side of the island, “and I’ll tell you all about it.” Simon turned to help Andy, scooping up the phone books, pads of paper and the pens and headed for the living room. He placed the items on the cocktail table and moved the piece of furniture closer to the couch. He looked up to see Andy coming towards him with the map, two beers and a plate with some pizza.

Simon took a seat and accepted the beer that Andy offered him. Andy sat next to Simon and placed the map and plate on the table.

“What’s that all about?” Simon asked, nodding towards the now closed kitchen door.

Andy opened his beer, “Well, Nick’s been feeling very guilty about what has been happening to John. He’s blaming himself for giving Dylan permission to look after Nigel so that Nigel wouldn’t end up in a relationship with the wrong people or person.”

“How could he possibly have done that?” Simon exclaimed.

“The whole thing was Dylan’s idea. He approached Nick and told him something along the lines that Nigel was so naive that he would be an easy target for anyone wanting to take advantage of him. He told Nick that the two of them, Nick and Dylan, should keep an eye on Nigel to keep him safe. Nick agreed with that and Dylan got closer and closer to Nigel and, well, we know how that turned out,” Andy sighed taking a sip of his beer.

Simon shook his head, “Wasn’t Nick trying to discourage Jo…I mean Nigel from dating Dylan?”

“Yeah, he was, but only because of the age difference not because he thought that Dylan was a bad person or that he would hurt Nigel. He says that he is a hypocrite as well,” Andy took another sip of beer and continued, “He’s been holding all of this in and driving himself crazy because he doesn’t want John to sense how upset he is. He feels that with his empathy, John would do whatever it takes to ease Nick’s pain, even if it would end up hurting John in the end.”

Simon nodded, “Yeah, that’s what John would do. He’s always been the peacemaker, hasn’t he, always trying to make everyone happy.”

“Yeah,” Andy agreed, “Nick pointed out what state John would be in afterwards. I confess, I thought that he was just drunk or high at times like that. He wasn’t, he was just exhausted.”

“Damn,” Simon swore, “I think we all thought that of him. If it’s true that he’s an empath then he was just doing what came naturally to him.”

“Another thing, Nick is convinced that John is an empath. He’s been in contact with Dr. Lopez for several weeks about John.”

“It would have been nice if he had shared this information sooner. I’ve been after John and his drug use for months now and not once did he defend himself that it wasn’t the drugs or drink,” Simon ran his hand through his hair.

“Maybe he doesn’t know the difference between the two sensations,” Andy shrugged.

“We have to find him,” Simon cried.

“Let’s finish this list of hotels,” Andy suggested, picking up a phone book. Simon joined him as the phone rang.

At first, Nick sat rigid in Roger’s arms, refusing to give into the emotions roiling through his being, but Roger’s tenacity in holding him and encouraging him to give into those emotions won through. He relaxed into Roger’s arms and cried like he had never cried before. The self loathing, the guilt, the shame of not stopping Nigel from becoming involved with Dylan, all came out in his tears. Instead of pulling away in disgust as Nick expected, Roger tightened the embrace. Nick leaned into the embrace, clutching at Roger’s black t-shirt and crying into his chest. He did not think he could cry as much as was. He could not stop.

Roger, for his part, was happy to hold tight to his younger band mate. For however long Nick needed it, Roger would hold him. As Andy had noted earlier (was it really just this morning?) he was not holding Nick Rhodes the Controller, but Nicholas Bates, a young man wracked by guilt and scared for his best friend.

Nick felt as if his tears would never stop. He could not remember a time where he had cried so much or so hard before. It felt like the tears would never stop. He had never felt so guilty before. He was convinced that it was his fault that Nigel became involved with Dylan.

After what seemed a life time but was only several minutes, Nick’s tears finally abated. He made no move to leave Roger’s arms and Roger made no attempt to loosen his hold. They stayed that way for several more minutes before Roger spoke up.

“It’s not your fault, you know,” he stated.

Nick pulled away from Roger, breaking the embrace. “How can you say that? I gave that monster permission to look after Nigel! If…”

Roger cut him off. “What was Dylan like when he asked you that?”

“I…I don’t understand,” Nick hiccupped.

“Did he appear abusive?”

Nick blinked several times. “No,” he admitted, “He was a great guy. Fun to be around, always willing to lend a hand. He was charming and truly seemed to care for Nigel.”

“So, no red flags?” Roger queried.

“No,” Nick answered softly, “No, none at all.”

“So, how are you responsible? You just admitted that Dylan seemed to be a great guy. You had no way of knowing his real nature…”

Nick cut him off. “I told Nigel that the difference in their ages was too great, that they wouldn’t have any interests in common.”

“What did Nigel do at the Runner?” Roger asked.

“He worked the door! You know that,” Nick responded irritably.

“What did Dylan do there?”

“He was a bouncer.”

“And in what area did he work in?”

Nick’s eyes widened as the realization hit him. “He would work the door with Nigel,” he whispered.

“So, Nigel was spending a lot of time with Dylan every night,” Roger concluded.

“Um, yeah, he was,” Nick admitted, sitting up fully.

“It sounds to me that relationship was going to proceed with or without your consent,” Roger stood up and retrieved a wet towel for Nick’s eyes. “Here, your makeup is a mess.”

“I’m sorry I ruined your t-shirt with my makeup,” Nick wiped at his eyes with the towel. Roger looked down at his makeup stained t-shirt.

“That’s okay, I have more at home,” he joked.

Nick gave a small laugh and slid off of the stool to head to the bathroom to remove what was left of his now messy makeup. Roger headed to the fridge to grab a beer. As he grasped the cold bottle the phone rang. Roger and Nick froze for a moment, staring at one another, and then they rushed into the living room together. Simon was on the phone with whoever had called. They could only hear his side of the conversation:

“Hello…Yes, that’s me…Yes, I do… He’s my boyfriend… Is he…okay…Yeah, I understand…Yeah, we’ll be there as quickly as possible…Thank you.”

He hung up and stared at the phone.

“Charlie?” Andy asked.

“That was Holy Family Hospital,” Simon replied, “John’s in the emergency department.”


	18. Another Days Over Just An Hour To Go

Simon rushed up to the front desk in the Emergency Department. He waited impatiently while the middle aged woman behind the desk finished up a phone conversation.

“How can I help you?” she asked as she hung up phone.

“I’m Simon LeBon. I am here about John Taylor. He was brought in by ambulance.”

The woman looked through the files on her desk. “I don’t have a John Taylor…”

“Nigel! Nigel John Taylor is his full name,” Simon interrupted her breathlessly.

The woman took another quick look through the handful of files on her desk. “Ah, yes, here we go,” she pulled the correct file out of the pile, “I’ll let the nurse know that you are here. Please have a seat.” She pointed at the almost empty waiting room as she picked up the phone and dialed the ED. “Yes, a Mr. Simon LeBon is here for Nigel Taylor. Yes, alright, I’ll let them know.” She hung up the phone and smiled at Simon. “They will be with you shortly. There’s coffee, tea, water and soda over there.” She pointed to a small room off to the side where a coffee maker could be seen.

“Thank you,” Simon stated as he joined the others in the waiting room. Nick, who had quickly redone his make up before leaving, was sitting almost motionless staring at nothing. Roger sat next to him, with a clean shirt on, drumming his fingers on his knee. Andy sat across from them, his foot tapping on the floor with nervous energy. Simon paced to and fro in the small area by their chairs.

Several minutes ticked by. Andy was ready to tell Simon to have a seat when the doors to the ED opened and a man who appeared to be in his early fifties with graying sandy hair and glasses walked through. He stopped by the desk to speak with the woman who sat there. She nodded and pointed to Simon. The man approached him.

“Mr. LeBon?” he asked.

“That’s me,” Simon replied.

“I’m Dr. Nate Johnson,” the man introduced himself, holding out a hand towards Simon. “I’m the one taking care of Nigel while he is here in the ED.”

Simon grasped the man’s hand, “John,” he stated, “He goes by John.”

“Ah! That may be part of the problem, then. We’ve been calling him Nigel and he hasn’t been responding.”

“How bad is he?” Nick had risen from his chair and came to stand next to Simon.

“And may I ask how you know Mr. Taylor?” Dr. Johnson.

“I’m Nicholas Bates; I’ve known John since we were kids.”

“And this is Roger and Andy Taylor,” Simon introduced the two Taylors.

“Related?” Dr. Johnson asked.

“No, just a coincidence,” Andy replied.

“How do you all know Ni…John?” Dr. Johnson queried.

Nick spoke up, “We’re all in a band that John and I started.”

“Ah! May I ask the name of the band?”

“Duran Duran.”

“Ah! You’re the lads who made that dirty video last year, aren’t you?”

“That was us,” Simon nodded.

“Here, there’s a room over here where we can talk in private,” Dr. Johnson led them to a room off to the side of the waiting room, opened the door and turned on the light. He stepped aside to give the younger men room to enter. The room was nondescript with a round table, several chairs, a painting of flowers on one wall and a white board on another. As the men took their seats, Dr. Johnson closed the door and took a seat as well.

“Your friend isn’t in very good shape right now,” Dr. Johnson started.

“Where was he found?” Simon leaned forward, resting his arms on the table.

“At the Kinzie Street Park, about 90 minutes ago.”

“Kinzie Street!”Andy exclaimed. “That’s almost fifteen kilometers from your house, Charlie! How did he get that far is so short a time?”

“I don’t know,” Simon shook his head.

“He was found by a couple taking a short cut through the park because of the rain. If it hadn’t been for some lightening, they would never have spotted him. It appears that he was mugged, but the muggers must have been interrupted. They left his boots and his wallet full of money behind.” Dr. Johnson informed them.

Simon blinked his eyes in shock. John was mugged less than twenty four hours after he had been sexually assaulted by Dylan. “How bad is he?” he quietly asked.

“He was beaten very badly. He has a concussion, a couple of cracked ribs, a sprained knee, several contusions, lacerations and abrasions. He has a busted lip and his nose was dislocated,” Dr. Johnson paused as the four young men digested the news he had just given them.

For their part, the four Durans sat frozen in shock after learning about the new injuries their friend and band mate had suffered. Before any of them could speak up, Dr. Johnson started speaking again.

“He was found lying face down in a puddle. He inhaled some of the water into his lungs and he has what is called aspiration pneumonia. He has fluid in his lungs. He’s not conscious enough to cough it up on his own and with the cracked ribs, coughing is going to be quite painful. To give his lungs time to heal, we’ve put in a medically induced coma and put him on a ventilator. He’ll be receiving breathing treatments from respiratory therapy to help clear his lungs as well.”

“Dear lord! Is there anything else?” cried Simon.

“Unfortunately, yes, there is. He has drugs in his system…”

“Coke,” Simon interrupted.

“Yes, coke and MDMA.”

“What’s that?” Andy asked.

“It’s also known as Extacy. We’ve been seeing a lot of it lately. It’s a new club drug on the market,” Dr. Johnson informed them.

“What does it do?” Simon asked.

“It enhances the senses, especially the sense of touch. It also increases one’s empathy…”

“WHAT!” all four of the Durans cried at once as they looked at each other in panic.

“Yes, it increases a person’s ability to sense the emotions of others,” Dr. Johnson continued, confused by the other men’s reactions. “Most users call MDMA the happy pill because once the mood has become positive for some it spreads through the group.”

“If the emotions surrounding a person are all negative, would those negative emotions spread throughout the group?” Nick asked.

Dr. Johnson thought for a moment. “It’s possible,” he finally answered, “but I don’t know how probable it is. Why?”

“We believe he’s an empath,” Nick answered quietly.

“If that’s true, it would have greatly enhanced any empathic abilities he has to the point where he would have been incapacitated from feeling the emotions of others, even from those who were at some distance from him,” Dr. Johnson answered grimly.

“May we see him?” Simon requested.

“Yes, but only two at a time,” Dr. Johnson paused, “We had to restrain him. He woke up for a short time and became quite combative. We restrained him to keep him from hurting himself more than he already was.”

“Oh,” Simon responded.

“Who will be first?” asked the doctor.

“Charlie, you and Andy go in first. Nick and I will go in afterwards,” Roger spoke up.

“Yeah, okay,” Simon nodded numbly.

Dr. Johnson rose from the table, “Come with me.”

The four of them rose as well and followed the doctor out of the room. Roger and Nick went to sit in the waiting room while Simon and Andy continued on into the ED.

“He’s in room 4,” Dr. Johnson pointed out.

Simon nodded and he and Andy headed for room 4.

Simon hesitated outside the curtain. Andy placed his hand on his shoulder.

“Do you want me to go in first?” he asked softly.

Simon took a deep breath. “No,” he answered, “No, I’ll go.” He pulled aside the curtain and entered the room.

Nothing could have prepared him for how John looked. At first all Simon saw was the tube going into John’s mouth down to his lungs. The other end of the tube was plugged into a machine next to the bed. The machine puffed as it pushed air into his lungs and hissed as it reversed the flow and drew air out of his lungs. With each hiss, John’s body jerked a little bit. Simon stood where he was until he felt a hand on his back. He looked and saw Andy standing there. Andy nodded towards John. Simon took a deep breath and went to stand next to the bed. He received another shock when he reached for John’s hand and saw the leather restraint that was attached to his wrist. Dr. Johnson had told them that John was restrained but Simon did not realize what that meant until now.

“We should be able to take those off soon,” a voice said from across the gutney. Simon blinked and looked up in surprise. He had been so focused on John that he had failed to see the nurse on the other side of the bed.

“The doctor said he was quite combative earlier,” Simon stated.

“Yes, he was. He was kicking and throwing punches at anyone who came close to the bed. He was also trying to get off the gurney. He almost did at one point. It took six of us to hold him down to get the restraints on so we could treat him,” she explained. She turned to the bed tray next to her, dropped the wash cloth in her hand into the soapy water, wrung out the now soaked cloth and returned to what she had been doing, gently washing the dried blood off of John’s face.

Simon finally took a close look at John’s face. In addition to the previous bruise on his cheek, both eyes were blackened and his lip was split. Tape covered his nose. **How does a nose dislocate?** Simon wondered. The bruises on his neck were still very obvious. Simon’s eyes drifted down John’s body. Bruises, scratches and scrapes covered his arms. He had a blood pressure cuff on one arm and an IV in the other. Electrodes had been placed on his chest. Bruises were apparent on his chest and Simon was sure there were more below the blanket covering him. Once again, he felt Andy’s hand on his back.

“Talk to him, let him know that you’re here,” the nurse told them.

Simon reached for John’s cuffed hand. He caressed the callused fingers. He thought about how he would love to feel those fingers up and down his shaft. **Stop it, Simon!** he told himself. **Johnny’s on a ventilator and you’re thinking about your dick!**

“Hey, Johnny,” he said out loud, “You gave us quite a scare. Why’d you run away like that? Please, don’t do that again!”

Andy too up a position on the other side of the gurney where the nurse had been. Simon had not seen her leave, so focused he was on John.

“Yeah, JT,” Andy joined in, “You had us searching all over for you.”

They spent the next several minutes talking to John. For his part, John remained unresponsive, much to Simon’s disappointment. **Of course he’s unresponsive, you dolt!** he chided himself, ** He’s in a medically induced coma!**

“Charlie?” Andy called to him.

“What?”

“Let’s let Nick and Roger see him and then you can come back and sit with him.”

“Yeah, okay,” Simon leaned over the bed and kissed John’s forehead. “Nick and Roger want to see you. I’ll be back later, baby. I love you.”

“Hang in there, JT,” Andy patted John’s shoulder.

They both left the room. As they were walking through the ED towards the waiting room Dr. Johnson called out,” Mr. LeBon? A moment please?”

Simon stopped. Andy glanced over, nodded once to Simon and continued to the waiting room. Dr. Johnson pulled Simon aside. “I have a couple of questions to ask you.”

“Okay,” Simon replied.

“I have to ask about the other injuries he has. The bruises on his neck look like they were made by a hand. He has self defense wounds on his hands and the injuries to his genitals are appalling.   
What happened?”

“He was assaulted by his ex-boyfriend last night,” Simon sighed.

“Have the police been notified?”

“No. We haven’t had the right opportunity to ask him if he wants to file charges with them.”

“I recommend finding him a therapist to help him deal with these traumas. Try and get one who specializes in empaths,” Dr. Johnson suggested.

“Thank you, we have one in mind,” Simon answered.

“Good. We’ll be moving him to ICU once a bed is ready for him.”

“Alright,” Simon nodded. Dr Johnson took his leave of Simon and walked back towards the desk. With that, Simon returned to the waiting room.


	19. Try To Hold the Rising Floods That Fill My Skin

As Simon approached the area where his friends were sitting he observed Andy in close conversation with Nick and Roger. Roger was leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands in front of him with a grim expression on his face. Nick was sitting upright, one hand covering his mouth, a look of horror on his face. Andy was obviously telling them about how John looked. It was what he had been preparing himself to do. He would thank Andy later.

Andy looked up as Simon came near. “What did the doctor want?”

Simon took a seat next to him. “He wanted to know about the other injuries he has. I told him about Dylan assaulting John,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead.

“Where did he get the MDMA from?” Nick asked.

“There’s only one person who John trusts for his drugs,” Simon growled, “and there is only one person who would give him a new drug.”

“Gabe,” the other three said in unison.

“Yeah, Gabe,” Simon nodded.

“I don’t think he gave John the MDMA with the intention of hurting him, Charlie,” Andy looked over at Simon, “Neither he nor John knew that John’s an empath. Gabe probably doesn’t know what the shit does to empaths.”

“If he even knows that the stuff does anything with empathy,” Nick sighed.

“True,” Roger piped up, “He doesn’t use much of his own product at all.”

“No,” Simon said bitterly, “He gives his best customers freebies to try them out.” He scrubbed a hand across his face. He hadn’t slept going on forty hours now. Andy and Roger exchanged glances, noting how tired their frontman was. With a quick nod to Andy, Roger stood up.

“C’mon, Nick,” he stated softly to the younger man, “Let’s go keep John company.”

Nick took a deep breath and stood up a little uncertain if he wanted to see his best friend in the condition that Andy had described. He looked towards Simon.

“Is he really bad?” he questioned.

Simon looked Nick in the eye. He could not lie to him. “Yes, he is really bad. It’s scary to see him like this. Again.”

“Is he that bad? Like before?” Nick gasped.

“Almost,” Simon whispered, not wanting to admit the truth.

Nick turned even paler than he was before. Roger put an arm around Nick’s shoulders and walked with him to ED. Andy watched them go then turned his attention to Simon. He was slouched down in his chair, staring at the ceiling. He was paler than normal, as if his tan had been washed away, and there were bags under his eyes.

“You need to sleep,” he told Simon, “And a shower.”

Simon’s head snapped up. “How am I supposed to do that? I can’t just skip off to bed and leave him lying on a cart with a tube down his throat and a machine breathing for him because he has water in his lungs!”

“Okay. Not while he is in the ED. Once he gets transferred to ICU and is settled, you are going home, taking a shower, and going to bed and at least taking a nap. Once you’re rested, pack yourself a bag and we’ll get you a roll-away bed. If you can’t sleep in his room you should be able to sleep in the lounge,” Andy countered, “like you did the last time.”

Simon felt tears prick his eyes as he thought back to the incident that happened eighteen months ago.

_The band was at the Rum Runner, practicing for a short tour around England. Everyone but Nigel. They had not heard or seen him or Dylan in three days. Nick had been calling their flat but no one was answering. After waiting for an hour, and still no answer on the phone, Simon decided to go over to the flat. The others agreed and went along with him._

_Simon got behind the wheel of the Citroën and headed for Nigel and Dylan’s flat. It was only a few kilometers away but for Simon it seemed to take forever. He kept going faster and faster, a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach._

_“Slow down, Charlie!” Nick exclaimed, “We’ll get there quicker if you don’t get stopped for speeding!”_

_Simon lay off the pedal. He turned into the car park next to their destination, taking the first spot. Simon barely had the car in park before he was out the door, running up the steps to the flat. The others caught up as he was pounding on the door, yelling for Nigel to open up. There was no response inside the flat. He stopped pounding to catch his breath. In the silence they could hear the sounds of something being hit over and over and a groaning sound. Then they heard Dylan’s voice._

_“You lying piece of shit!” Dylan bellowed, “You. Lying. Piece. Of. Shit,” he repeated, each word punctuated by a sickening smack. “I’ll teach you to never lie to me again,” Dylan continued. The smacking stopped but an unearthly cry of pain replaced it._

_“That’s Nigel!” Andy cried out. That was enough for Simon. He backed up and with a wild cry, kicked the door where the latch met the frame. To his, and everyone else’s, surprise the door popped open. Simon paused for a moment taking in the scene before him._

_Nigel lay on the living room floor covered in blood. Dylan was standing on his chest. He was gasping for air, trying to lift his hands in a doomed effort to push Dylan off of him. Every time the larger man shifted his weight, Nigel’s ribs creaked._

_Simon had heard and seen enough. With and inarticulate scream, he charged into the room and tackled Dylan, shoving the monster off of Nigel and onto the floor. Simon landed on top of him. When Dylan looked up, Simon cold cocked him in the jaw, much to Dylan’s surprise. Simon continued to pummel the older man with this fists and feet. Dylan, for his part, could hardly fend off Simon’s blows. His face was bloodied and bruised; a cut above his eye had blood blinding him on that side. A split lip was filling his mouth with blood as was the blood gushing out of his nose. In a sudden show of brute strength, Dylan shoved Simon off of him and sprinted past the others and out of the door. Simon surged to his feet to run after him, until someone caught his arm. Simon whirled on the person who dared to stop him from going after the brute who had hurt Nigel._

_“Charlie! Charlie, just leave him go! Nigel needs help, let him go!” Simon focused on who was talking to him. Andy. Andy was holding him back. Simon’s first thought was to push the smaller man aside, but then he focused on one word. Nigel. All thoughts of pursuit vanished from his mind. Nigel. Nigel, who was lying naked on the floor covered in blood. Simon hurried over to kneel next to him. “We need to cover him up,” he heard himself saying._

_Nick was kneeling on Nigel’s other side.“He’s been hurt really bad, Charlie,” Nick said softly, as if he didn’t want Nigel to hear how bad he was. “Roger’s calling an ambulance.”_

_For the first time Simon noted that Roger was not in the room. The living room, where Nigel was lying, was a mess – overturned tables and chairs, a broken lamp. A broken, bloody broom stick and a bloodied cricket bat lay on the floor nearby. Simon’s eyes finally focused on Nigel. His arm lay at an unnatural angle. His body was covered in bruises and bloody welts. There were the imprints of Dylan’s boots on his chest. Dylan had stomped hard enough on to Nigel’s chest to leave those bruises. His face was almost unrecognizable, it was so swollen. Both eyes were blackened, his nose broken, jaw dislocated, lip split. What disturbed Simon the most was the red frothy blood bubbling up through Nigel’s mouth. He was bleeding into his lungs._

_“Oh, Nigel! What did he do to you?” Simon exclaimed softly. To his surprise, Nigel was still conscious! He locked his pain glazed eyes on Simon. He was struggling to breath and his body was shaking, even after Andy covered him with a blanket._

_“Stay with us, Nigel,” Simon spoke to the injured man, “Stay with us. The ambulance is on its way.” Simon wanted to touch Nigel, but did not know where to touch him that would not cause him more pain. He settled with placing his hand on top of Nigel’s hand. The ambulance could not get there fast enough._

_Nigel’s injuries were appalling. His arm was broken, as were several of his ribs. One of those ribs had punctured a lung and caused that lung to collapse. He was bleeding internally into his lungs and abdomen. His kidneys were bruised and filling with fluid. He had been hit so hard on the head that his skull had cracked. Luckily, he did not require surgery for that injury but he did require surgery to stop the bleeding into his lungs and abdomen. He had also been viciously raped. Because of the damage to his lungs and ribs, he was placed in a medically induced coma and put on a ventilator for almost a month. It was touch and go for a while and they almost lost him twice._

Simon brushed away at the tears in his eyes and sighed.

“Okay, I’ll go home and rest, ONCE John in settled in ICU, not before,” he acquiesced.

Andy nodded in agreement, “Fair enough. Here, I’ll make us some tea.” He stood up and went to the small alcove to make him and Simon some instant tea. He was back shortly and handed Simon a Styrofoam cup with the steaming liquid. Simon took a small sip and then hunched forward, cradling the cup in his hands and watching the steam rise. Andy sat beside him, sipping from his cup.

He finally looked around him at the waiting room. They were not alone. He counted eleven other people scattered throughout the room, in small groups, each consumed by their own worry and grief. Eleven others and him and Simon. Thirteen total. Andy worried if that was a bad omen or not.

He was brought out of his musing s by the sudden appearance of Nick and Roger. He knew right away that something was wrong. Nick had his face buried in Roger’s shoulder, obviously crying. Roger had his arm around Nick’s waist and was guiding the younger man towards him and Simon. Roger’s expression was even grimmer that when he had gone into the ED. Andy nudged Simon and got to his feet, heart sinking.

Simon looked up at Andy, and then turned to see what the other man was staring at. He quickly stood up as Nick and Roger approached. “What is it? What happened?” he managed to get out through the tightening of his throat.

Roger looked Simon in the eye. “He’s had a seizure,” he stated.


	20. I Sense the Rhythm Humming in a Frenzy

Simon sat down in shock. He was aghast at the news. They had been warned about the possibility of seizures when John’s skull had been fractured. Luckily, that had not happened then. Why now? Had John not been through enough in the past twenty four hours? What else would he have to endure? It was not fair!

Andy simply stood there with his mouth open as he digested what had just happened. A seizure! He had so many questions. Why now? Would John have more in the future? How did they protect him from seizures in the future? Couldn’t seizures be deadly? Would John have to be on medication for the rest of his life?

Roger was now holding Nick as the younger man cried. This would be the second shirt to be covered in Nick’s makeup today, he thought wryly. He couldn’t blame Nick his tears, watching John convulse like that was terrifying. The medical staff had not removed the restraints yet and that had kept John from physically hurting himself. Roger had never imagined that a person could move so violently.

Nick clung to Roger, unashamed of his tears. He was horrified at seeing John lying on that gurney with a tube down his throat so a machine could breathe for him. He was hooked up to so many lines and wires that Nick was afraid to come too close to the gurney. The equipment around the small room were buzzing and beeping with lights red, yellow and green. The hissing of the ventilator added to the cacophony.

Nick had hoped that he would never have to see John like this again. He had reached for John’s still restrained hand. And then, the convulsion. Nick had never seen anyone’s body move like that. And the sound John made around that tube! He could not even describe them. A deep, choking growl was all he could think of. He had stood frozen there, terrified that if he moved John’ convulsions would get worse. He was not even aware that he was crying until a strong pair of hands grasped him by the shoulders and pulled him away. Roger drew him out of the room. Nurses and doctors were running past them to work on John. Roger wrapped his arms around Nick and led him out of the ED and back to Simon and Andy in the waiting room.

“The nurse said that the doctor would come and talk to us after they’ve stabilized him,” Roger stated. Simon looked up at Roger. He wiped the tears away from his eyes. He would not cry now. Now he would be strong for John. He would cry later when he was alone. There was nothing he could do now but wait for the doctor. As the other three took seats around him, he sat back in his chair to wait.

It seemed like an eternity before the doctor came out to talk to them. Roger and Nick sat on the couch across from him. Nick was much calmer now. Roger had taken him to the rest room where Nick had washed off what was left of his makeup. Roger had then run out to his car to get another clean shirt. How many shirts did he have in that car, Simon wondered. That was the second shirt he had changed into today.

Andy was sprawled out beside Simon on the couch, an arm thrown across his eyes, blocking out the annoyingly cool fluorescent lighting. He looked like he could have been asleep except that his foot kept bobbing up and down.

Simon was also finding it hard to stay still. He could not find a comfortable position to sit in. He considered getting up and pacing, but they were not alone in the waiting room anymore and he did not wish to disturb anyone. His mind was racing at a fever pitch. He was seeing images and scenes of John having seizures on stage, in the car, at the chip shop, even in their bed. How would he, Simon, handle that? More importantly, how would John handle it?

Hearing his name being called pulled Simon out of his thoughts.

“Mr. LeBon?”

Simon stood up as Dr. Johnson made his way to the group. “Yes?”

“If you would all come to the conference room, I will bring you up to date,” the graying doctor gestured to the small room that they had been in earlier.

After they were seated and before the doctor could say anything, Simon spoke up.

“Umm,” he began nervously, “You should know that eighteen month ago, he had his skull fractured.”

“Yes, we saw evidence of that on the CT scan,” Dr. Johnson settled himself in the chair before continuing, “Has he ever had seizures before?

“No,” Simon stated, “And he’s been living with me since he was discharged by the hospital after that attack.”

“What about headaches?”

“Not for a few months. He had them pretty severally right after, but they got better with time.”

“Has he ever just stopped what he’s been doing to stare off into space and you weren’t able to get his attention for a bit of time?” Dr. Johnson continued his questioning.

The four men at the table looked at each other and shook their heads, each answering, “No.”

“That’s good,” Dr. Johnson assured them. “The skull fracture has healed well; there is no sign of swelling or bleeding or of blood clots in his brain either. I believe that this seizure was the result of his having a concussion combined with the drugs in his system and the stress of the past day.”

“Could he have another one?” Nick asked.

“While that is possible, I highly doubt it. Most people who have seizures only have them once. He will, of course, be closely monitored for the time he will be with us.”

“Will he have to be on any type of medication?” Andy spoke up, dreading the answer.

“At this time, no. Nor do I see it in the long term with him. He’s had a rough, what, thirty six hours?”

“Less than that,” Simon grunted, slipping lower into his chair in relief.

“Were there…Were there any new injuries?” Nick queried in a low, hesitant voice.

“Some bruising around where the restraints were,” Dr. Johnson answered.

“No, umm, no brain damage?” It came out almost as a whisper with Nick anxiously looking at the doctor.

“There is no evidence of damage on the CT scan or the EEG,” Dr. Johnson assured Nick. Simon gave Nick a silent thank you for asking the question he had not had the courage to ask.

“What’s an EEG?” Roger asked.

“An EEG is an electroencephalogram. It reads the electrical currents of the brain. You will notice that there are small electrodes attached to his scalp now. I saw no evidence of any damage with the EEG readouts,” Dr. Johnson reiterated.

All four of the Durans visibly relaxed at that.

“Any more questions?” Dr. Johnson asked as he looked at each of them in turn. The four of them looked at each other before Simon spoke up, “No, not right now.”

“Very well,” Dr. Johnson stood up, “He’ll be transferred to ICU soon.”

“May I sit with him?” Simon stood up as well.

“Of course, but no more than two at a time.”

“Thank you, doctor,” once again; Simon spoke up for all of them.

“Well if you have any questions, talk to one of the nurses. They can get me or relay information to me if I can’t come over to speak with you,” Dr. Johnson shook their hands and left the little room.


	21. Spinning a Compass to Choose Your Way

Simon looked at Nick who was looking at his hands. To Simon’s eyes, Nick looked more pale than usual, his eyes red and swollen from crying, his whole figure seemed to have shrunken into himself making him look smaller than he actually was.

“C’mon, Nick,” Roger rested his hand on Nick’s shoulder, “I’ll take you home so you can get some rest.”

“You need to rest, too, Charlie,” Nick said as he stood up.

“He will,” Andy spoke up, “I’ll see to that!”

Satisfied with Andy’s answer Roger and Nick left. Seated beside him, Simon let out a long sigh.

“Are you okay?” Andy asked, placing his hand on top of Simon’s on the table.

“No, I’m not, and I won’t be until he’s back at home with me,” Simon looked into Andy’s deep blue eyes. Andy could see Simon’s pain and fear in the other mans light blue eyes.

“I’ll be with you,” Andy assured him.

“Okay,” Simon let out a breath, “Let’s go.”

The two of them left the small room and headed back into the ED.

Outside of the room where John was lying in, Simon paused. He tried to prepare himself for what he may see inside. Andy placed a hand on his shoulder, silently giving his support. With a nod to Andy, they entered the small room.

The first thing they noticed was all of the wires attached to John’s skull. A new monitor had been added to which the wires were attached. Simon approached the bed and reached to take John’s hand, which was no longer restrained. Simon gently clutched at the hand and leaned in to place a light kiss on John’s forehead. John’s body still jerked slightly when the ventilator pushed air into his lungs. Other than that, John was silent and motionless. Andy silently laid his hand on Simon’s shoulder.

“Do you want a moment alone with him?”

“Yeah,” Simon croaked out, “Yeah,” he said stronger this time, “Give us a few, will ya?”

“Sure, I’m going to have some tea and a smoke. That long enough?”

“Yes, that’ll be fine. Thanks mate.”

Andy gave Simon’s shoulder a little squeeze and then left. Simon watched him disappear through the curtains. He took a deep breath before turning his full attention back to John. He pulled up a chair next to the gurney so he could sit and still hold John’s hand.

“Johnny? Baby? Can you hear me? You’re in the hospital. You’re safe now,” Simon talked to John, hoping John could hear him. “Why did you run like that? I wish I knew what was going on in that head of yours.”

With a sigh, Simon settled back in his chair to wait with John until he was transferred to ICU.

The trip from the hospital to Nick’s flat was silent. Nick spent the trip staring out the passenger window. He was sitting so still that Roger wondered if he was awake. Even after he pulled up to the entrance of the building, Nick sat unmoving. Roger put the car in park and waited for Nick to exit. Nick made no move to.

“Nick,” Roger reached over to touch Nick’s arm. Nick jumped at the touch. He wiped at his eyes before turning to face Roger. Roger quickly saw the bags under Nick’s usually vibrant green eyes. Those eyes were now dulled in color, red and swollen with tears. Nick blinked blurrily up at him.

“Here, I’ll walk you in,” Roger gallantly offered, sliding out of the car. Nick followed suit and met Roger at the front of the car. They walked to the elevator and rode it up to Nick’s floor. Nick fumbled for his keys before successfully opening the door. As they stepped into the darkened flat they were greeted by mewing. Nick switched on the light and Roger saw Nick’s cat, Sebastian, sitting in the doorway to the kitchen. Nick gave a little laugh as he went to enter the kitchen. He bent down and scooped up the cat into his arms.

“How are you, Sebastian?” he cooed, gently scratching the feline between the ears. “Are you hungry?” Nick moved through the kitchen and, after putting Sebastian down onto the floor, prepared the cat his dinner.

Roger watched Nick interact with his feline companion. Roger made a mental note to get Sebastian a special treat as he took his master’s mind away from John for a little while.

After feeding Sebastian, Nick leaned against the counter, shoulders sagging. He looked totally defeated. Roger came over and placed his hands on Nick’s shoulders. Nick startled, as if he had forgotten that Roger was there. He looked over his shoulder at Roger.

“Could…could you stay here tonight?” he asked softly.

“Yeah, I don’t want to be alone tonight either,” Roger replied, “I have to go home first and grab some things. Will you be okay while I’m doing that?”

“Yeah, I’ll take a shower while you’re gone. Here’s my key so you can get in if I’m still in there.”

Roger took the key, and giving Nick’s shoulders another squeeze, left. Nick stayed where he was listening as Roger left. When the door closed behind Roger, he moved away from the counter and headed towards his bathroom.

Once in, he studied himself in the mirror. He looked a mess. No makeup, eyes red and puffy, cheeks tear stained, his skin even more pale than usual. He didn’t see the Controller in the mirror, he saw someone who was weak and useless. He turned away in disgust. He stripped off his clothes and dropped them in a heap on the floor. Another sign of his current mental state; he always folded his clothes neatly before getting into the shower.

He adjusted the water temperature and stepped into the cabin. He stood under the hot, stinging spray, hoping that it would strip the guilt away. When that didn’t work he grabbed the washcloth and soap and started to scrub his skin, but it was hopeless. He could not scrub his feeling s of guilt away no matter how hard he scrubbed or how hot the water was. He finally gave up in disgust and turned the water to cold to cool his scalded skin. He hoped the cold water would numb his feelings but once again it did not. He turned the water off and stepped out of the cabin. He quickly dried himself off and changed into shorts and a t-shirt. He was still towel drying his hair when he walked into his living room to find Roger seated on his couch with Sebastian.

“Oh, I didn’t hear you come in,” he said in way of greeting.

“No, I guess not,” Roger looked up at Nick with a critical eye. No robe, no actual pajamas like Nick usually wore, just shorts and a too big t-shirt. And Nick was towel drying his hair, not blow drying it. Roger had shared enough rooms with Nick while on tour that he knew Nick’s evening routine well. Just more signs pointing in the direction of Nick’s current mental state. He was as meticulous with his night time routine as he was with his morning routine.

Nick continued to towel dry his orange/red locks as he headed into the dining room. Roger got up to follow him. There was something about the grey t-shirt he was wearing. Actually, Nick was swimming in it; it was several sizes too large.

“Is that John’s shirt?” he asked.

Nick looked down at what he was he was wearing. He had just grabbed a shirt out of the drawer, not looking at it. He just now noticed how big and long it was on him. “New York” the t-shirt proclaimed with a picture of the Statue of Liberty in front of the Manhattan skyline. Even after being washed Nick could swear that it smelled like John. He dropped the towel to the floor.

“Yes,” he choked out, staring up at the ceiling, vainly trying to blink back the tears. He could not believe he still had tears left to cry. But, why should he not cry? John would not be in the ICU, with a machine breathing for him if Nick had only seen Dylan’s intentions all those years ago. So much guilt filled him, its black tendrils creeping deeper into his psyche like a poison. Before he knew it the tears were streaming down his face again. Try as he might, he could not stop the sobs from shaking his body.

Strong arms wrapped around his slight frame and held him tight. Nick stiffened. He did not feel that he should receive any comfort as long as John had a machine pushing air in and out of his lungs. No, Nick definitely did not deserve comfort. He stepped free from Roger’s arms.

“No,” he stated, stepping away, “No, I don’t deserve your comfort, anyone’s comfort! Not now, not while John is having a machine breathing for him! You should be punishing me!”

“For what exactly?” Roger asked.

“It’s my fault…”Nick was cut off when Roger stepped closer and put both of his hands on Nick’s slim shoulders.

“You did nothing wrong, Nick! How do I get that through to you?” Roger asked in exasperation.

“I did everything wrong!” Nick yelled back. “How do I get that through to you? I should have never said yes to Dylan about protecting Nigel! I should have tried harder to discourage Nigel from having anything to do with Dylan! I should have…”

“What did you know about relationships? You were 16! Did you even know what a toxic relationship was? Could you tell that Dylan was a psychopath, that he would do what he did to Nigel? Did you?!” Roger grasped Nick’s shoulders harder and shook him as he yelled at him.

Nick blinked at Roger in shock. He never expected Roger, cool, calm Roger, to get angry at him like that. It drove into Nick the realization that all of them were affected by John’s current predicament. Roger kept his hands on Nick’s shoulders but was no longer shaking him.

“Damn,” he pulled Nick into a hug. “We can’t live in the past. John’s doing that too much; we need to live in the present so we can help him do so as well. We can’t feel guilt so strongly that it prevent s us from moving forward. Feeling, and showing, that guilt will only impede John’s healing. He’ll know you’re feeling guilty and will concentrate on you, making you feel better, rather than on him.”

Nick sighed. Roger was right, with John’s empathy he would concentrate on healing Nick rather than himself. Nick took a deep breath, Roger was right. He could not keep beating himself up for the past. It was time to move on.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Roger asked.

“Yeah, yeah I would,” Nick replied.


	22. I’m Light Years Away but I’m Walking Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in time for Christmas! Merry Christmas to all who celebrate! Happy Holidays and have a Happy New Year!

Roger led Nick into the living room and settled him on the couch. He then headed back into the dining room and poured them each a glass of wine. He returned to the living room and, after handing one glass to Nick, he settled onto the couch also. Nick raised an eyebrow at Roger as he took the glass.

“Wine?” he questioned, “No vodka?”

“Maybe later,” Roger replied as they both took a sip of wine.

“What would you like to talk about?” Roger softly asked Nick. Nick sighed and looked deep into the glass of red wine in his hand.

“I understand what you are saying, that I am not at fault here. I mean, I didn’t push Nigel into dating Dylan but I didn’t try hard enough to discourage him from dating Dylan, either,” he began.

“Why were you trying to discourage Nigel and Dylan from dating?”

“Well, like I said earlier, I thought the age difference was too great. Dylan was 26 and Nigel was 18. Nigel had never been in a relationship of any kind before, not even casually,” Nick raised his head and looked Roger in the eye, “He lost his virginity to Dylan. They had been dating for about six weeks. Right after you joined, it happened. Nigel was in heaven afterwards. He told me that Dylan was all romantic about it. Flowers, music, dinner and candles. He went on and on about how gentle Dylan was with him and how he was glad he gave in and had sex…”

Both Roger and Nick looked at each other in shock as the words Nick had just said registered in their minds.

“He gave in and had sex with Dylan?” Roger spoke first. “But rather than wait until Nigel was ready, Dylan seduced him. Well, at least Dylan didn’t take his virginity by raping him.”

“No,” Nick sadly agreed. “Nigel always told me what he wanted to happen when he lost his virginity. He didn’t want to lose it in the back seat of a car or in a bathroom stall or back room. He wanted flowers and music and dinner and candles. And that’s what Dylan gave him. Probably exactly the way Nigel pictured it to be. And, for all the work Dylan put into the evening, Nigel probably felt obligated to pay Dylan back by agreeing to have sex with him.”

Roger shook his head, “And, by fulfilling all of Nigel’s dreams about losing his virginity Dylan pulled Nigel deeper into his little game.” He took a sip of his wine and went on.

“I remember when I came into the Runner to audition for you two. You were sitting on the stage and Nigel and Dylan were sitting at the bar, holding hands and giggling. I stared at them at first because of the differences. Nigel was rail thin and even sitting there you could see how ungainly he was, as if he had just gone through a quick growth spurt and he wasn’t comfortable with his body yet. Dylan on the other hand, was very comfortable with his body. And then there were the maturity levels between the two of them. Nigel was still in his teens, not sure of himself and not very confident in himself. Dylan exuded confidence and charisma. You could tell that Nigel was smitten but Dylan seemed to really care about him, too. Yeah, there was an age difference, but I didn’t think much of it because they both seemed to get along so well.” He paused to take another sip of his wine.

Nick was watching Roger intently. He had never heard Roger share his first impression of Nigel and Dylan. He tried to remember how Nigel had been when Roger came to audition for them. Him and Dylan just before Nigel lost his virginity.

Roger broke the silence. “When did things go wrong with him and Dylan? We all bought into the ‘Nigel-is-clumsy’ excuse.”

“Because he was clumsy,” Nick stated. “I knew him the best out of all of us and I didn’t notice when things got bad.” Nick took another sip of his wine before he continued, “Did you know that he came to the Runner one day with a bruised face. He told me that he had tripped and hit his face on the edge of the cocktail table. I showed him how to cover it up. And he became really good at it, covering up his bruises. So good that I couldn’t tell he had covered them up until I got really close to him. I guess that happened about six or seven months into their relationship.”

“Remember the time he said he fell down the stairs? He couldn’t stand up straight or hold his bass up. We know now that Dylan was beating him. How bad did he beat Nigel that he couldn’t stand up straight? What other signs did we miss?” Roger looked sadly at Nick.

Nick shook his head. “He was always wearing long sleeves. Always,” he emphasized. “With the clothes we were wearing back then long sleeves were part of the style. But even when we had moved away from the frilly blouses, he still wore long sleeves, even in the summer. When he did wear short sleeves or a tank top he always wore a jacket of some type over it. So we couldn’t see the marks being left on his arms.”

“Or his legs,” Roger added as Sebastian jumped up onto his lap. “He always keeps his legs covered. I don’t think I have ever seen him in shorts, or a swim suit.”

Nick was staring intently into his almost empty wine glass. Roger watched him. He could tell that Nick was struggling with something in his mind.

“Hey,” he placed his hand on Nick’s arm. Nick jumped in surprise. “What is it?” Roger asked Nick. Nick raised his green eyes to peer into Roger’s brown eyes. He studied Roger’s eyes for several moments, making up his mind.

“Roger, you have to promise me you’ll never bring this up to anyone, including John. Promise?” Roger nodded. Nick took a deep breath followed by a long drink of wine that emptied his glass.

“Simon told me this after John moved in with him. You know that John was cutting at the time. Charlie thought that he had stopped cutting about a month after he moved in. Well, he hadn’t. He just changed the area he had been cutting.” Nick took a deep breath, “One night John was taking longer than usual in the loo, so he knocked on the door to make sure everything was alright. John didn’t open the door or respond when Charlie called out his name. He was really worried so he opens the door. He finds John seated on the edge of the tub with his legs spread, cutting his upper thighs up by his groin with a razor blade. He had been at it for awhile; there was a lot of blood smeared on the side of the tub, on the floor and on John himself. Both thighs, mind you. Charlie managed to take the razor from John and got him into the bath so he could clean John up. John just let him, no tears, no fight, no shouting, nothing!

“He told me that John had been cutting himself there for a while. There were a dozens of small cuts down there, some fresh, some healed but still with that red that new scars form. But, he also found old scars that were well healed, you know, they were white. There were a lot of those. But what alarmed him the most were the three round scars at the very top of his inner thighs, right next of his balls. There were three on each side. Round, about a centimeter across, right in row. They were healed and you could tell that they had been inflicted at different times by the color of the scar tissue. The oldest ones where white and the newest ones were still pink. Charlie couldn’t get anything out of John then; he just dressed the wounds as best he could and then just laid there with him. Charlie told me that was the first time that John let him hold him while he slept.

“In the morning John finally answered Charlie’s questions, with some coaxing. The six scars were from cigarettes. Dylan told him that if he made John ugly down there then no one else would ever want him so he would have to stay with Dylan. As soon as one pair was healed, Dylan would burn him again. Dylan also cut him there as well and the back of John’s thighs. Marking him as ‘ugly’; meaning that he belonged to Dylan.

“Once he was free of Dylan, he started cutting his arms because Dylan never cut him there. But we made a fuss so he returned to where Dylan had already started. The area he was cutting wasn’t noticeable unless he was naked. Dylan chose to torture him there because the scars and marks were concealed there at all the times he was with us.”

“But, why would John want to continue Dylan’s work of making him ugly?” Roger finally asked what he had been dying to ask but didn’t want to interrupt Nick.

“To John’s logic, Dylan would only accept him with the marks that Dylan had put there, but if the marks were from someone else, then Dylan would be repulsed and wouldn’t touch him in the future.”

“Well, that didn’t go well, did it?” Roger responded.

“No,” Nick agreed, “It didn’t”

“Do you want some more wine?” Roger asked.

“Please.”

Nick handed his empty wine glass to Roger, who got up and went to refill both glasses. He returned to the living room to find Nick chewing on his bottom lip.

“What’s up?” he asked as he handed Nick his glass.

“I don’t know. Hearing you talk about what you observed between Nigel and Dylan, it makes me feel a little better. I really thought that I was the only one who didn’t notice that Dylan was abusing Nigel, that this was all my fault that I let Nigel date Dylan in the first place. After all, I gave Dylan permission…”

Roger held up his hand and interrupted Nick. “Exactly what did you give Dylan permission for?”

“I told you. Dylan came up to me one day at the Runner and said that Nigel wears his heart on his sleeve and that he was worried that Nigel would be taken advantage of by the wrong people. I told him that I would appreciate it if he could keep an eye on Nigel to make sure that nothing happens to him. Ha! Look what happened!” Nick took a large gulp of wine.

“Listen to yourself, Nick! Did you give Dylan permission to date Nigel or to just look after him?”

“Does it matter? I gave him permission to be near him!”

“They both worked the door, Nick. Their jobs put them in close contact every day. Every day, Nick, every day they were together. Dylan had loads of time to charm Nigel. Even if you had never given him ‘permission’ it would have happened.”

“How do you know that?” Nick asked, tears filling his eyes.

“Dylan was a real charmer. Face it; he charmed you and me from the very beginning. And he had a goal of getting Nigel all to himself. So, he comes to the one person who may have stopped Nigel from getting into a relationship with him, you, Nigel’s best friend. With you on his side, there wasn’t any one to stop him from getting his hands on Nigel. And think about this, even if you had not given your ‘permission’ do you really think that you could have stopped Nigel? I’m sure that he was highly flattered that a man in his mid twenties, older than himself or his friends, wants to spend time with him. Dylan is an impressive man. His height, his hair and those gray eyes of his! C’mon, you have to admit, Dylan’s a good looking man. Nigel was probably swept off his feet before he even knew it. Nigel would have done just about anything Dylan wanted shortly after they had met.”

“Then why did he ask…” Nick looked very confused.

“Just a little precaution to not cause any friction between you and Nigel, and between him and you.”

For the first time that day (had it really only been one day?) Roger did not see the self loathing in Nick’s eyes. Confusion was there, yes, but no self loathing.

“But…but I should have been able to…” Nick stuttered but Roger cut him off.

“Don’t, don’t play should’ve, would’ve, could’ve. You were also a victim of Dylan’s manipulation. Remember that, Dylan had you right where he wanted you to be.”

Nick stared at Roger as his words sunk in. This was a new idea to him, that he was a victim of Dylan, too. He actually found that thought to be liberating. Nick Rhodes was **not** a victim. Never! He Was the Controller, even if he did not feel like it right now. Despite his relief, he felt his lower lip tremble and his eyes fill with tears. Instead of fighting them, this time he gave into them. He leaned forward and covered his face with his hands and sobbed. Roger was there in a flash, taking Nick in his arms and holding tight. Nick turned into Roger and clutched his t-shirt and sobbed into Roger’s chest.

Roger held onto Nick until he was done with his tears. He did not loosen his hold on Nick right away. It felt so right to hold him. Roger was not sure where that feeling came from, but it had been growing ever since he first held Nick this morning in Simon and John’s front garden. No, that was not right. He had wanted to hold Nick in his arms ever since that first meeting at the Rum Runner four years ago. And while he was happy to finally be able to hold Nick, he wished that it would have happened in better circumstances than because John had been hurt so bad again. Impetuously, he bent down and kissed the top of Nick’s head. Nick sat up and looked Roger in the eye while reaching up to touch his head where Roger had kissed him.

“Did you just kiss me?” he asked.

“Yes,” replied Roger, “and I would like to do it again.”

“So do I,” Nick answered softly.

Roger leaned in and kissed Nick on the lips this time. The kiss started out gentle, but Nick quickly deepened it. He pulled Roger closer, pressing his lips against Roger’s. His tongue flicked out, caressing Roger’s lips and teeth with it, demanding entrance. Roger complied and opened his mouth, his own tongue reaching out to slowly duel with Nick’s.

Kissing Nick was unlike kissing a woman. His lips were firmer and the kiss itself was not as gentle. He could feel Nick’s five o’clock shadow, as he was sure Nick could feel his own. The spicy smell of Nick’s cologne and Nick’s own essence was unlike anything that he had ever smelled on a bird. And the passion behind this kiss was like nothing he had ever felt from kissing a bird. It was deep and hungry and very exciting. He found that he liked kissing Nick Rhodes, the Controller, a lot and he sensed that Nick enjoyed kissing him.


	23. And Watching Over Lucky Clover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone! Hope you and your loved ones are well. If you are still with me on this journey, drop a "Hi!" in the comments. Comments feed my muse. Love to all!

John was admitted to the ICU a little over ninety minutes after his return to the ED following his seizure. He had remained stable since then. Simon had spent his time before Andy returned talking softly to John, letting his love flow out to envelope lover. For a brief moment, he felt a tickle in the back of his mind that he immediately identified as John. As quickly as it appeared, it was gone. However, it boosted Simon’s moral tremendously knowing that John was aware of Simon’s presence.

Andy returned from this smoke and coffee break to find Simon softly singing to John, “I’ll be your homeward angel, I’ll be in your head.”

“Hey,” Andy announced his arrival. Simon looked up at him. Andy immediately sensed that Simon was more relaxed than when he had left. “What’s up?”

“Oh, hey, Ands, it was weird but for a moment there I felt him in the back of my mind. Just a tickle, but it was him.”

“His empathy you think?”

“Yeah, I think so. He seems to be resting quieter since then.”

Andy gave John’s hand a squeeze.

“Hey, JT, you’ve given us all quite a scare today. But, you’re going to be okay. Just concentrate on getting better now, eh?” Andy settled down in his chair as Simon started to sing again.

Andy woke up with a start. He looked around him in confusion, not recognizing where he was at first. A waiting room. Right. He was in the ICU waiting room. He blinked up at Simon, who was shaking his shoulder.

“We can see him now,” Simon stated softly.

“Oh, okay,” Andy sat up and stretched out his back. “How long was I asleep?”

“I’m not sure, about twenty minutes or so, I think. I fell asleep, too.”

A smiling aide beckoned them to follow her. She led them through the waiting room, pointing out the small snack area and the washrooms and showers. She gave them the access code to enter the ward itself. In the very early morning hour, there were only two other small groups present in the waiting area, all of them asleep either on chairs or in sleeping bags on the floor.

The ICU itself was a contrast of harsh lighting over the nurses’ station in the center and the dimmed lights of the individual rooms. The aide led them to room 4. They thanked her and she headed back to the nurses’ station.

Peering into the dim lighting of the small room, they made out two people. One was checking the equipment and writing in the chart. The other was picking up towels and sheets and putting them in a bin along the wall. The woman writing looked up and gave them a smile.

“Hello, I’m Louise, one of John’s nurses.”

“Um, hi I’m Simon and this is Andy,” Simon introduced the two of them.

“May I ask how you are related?”

“I’m his boyfriend,” Simon gestured to John’s still form, “And this is his cousin,” Simon nodded to Andy.

Louise nodded to the other woman, “This Peggy, his aide. You can come in.”

“We have just finished bathing him and getting him comfortable,” Peggy told them.

“Thank you,” Simon nodded to her as he and Andy moved over to John’s bed. Simon took John’s hand into his and leaned over to kiss John’s forehead. He caught a whiff of soap on John’s skin. The dirt and blood that had been on John’s face and hands had been washed away, revealing pale white skin and a litany of new bruises.

“He’s had a rough day, I understand,” Louise spoke up.

“Yes,” Simon responded.

“I have a few questions to ask,” Louise came to stand across the bed from them.

“Okay,” Simon replied as he brushed John’s hair with his hands. The hair was damp as it, too, had been washed. It was then that he noticed something was missing. “Where are the electrodes that were on his head?”

“We’re going to be putting on a sturdier set of electrodes than the ones the ED uses. His hair needs to day some more before we can do that, though.”

“Oh, okay. What did you want to ask us?”

“Does he go by John or Nigel?” Louise asked.

“John, or JT.” Simon replied.

“What does he call you?” she pointed at Simon.

“He calls me Charlie. My middle name is Charles so he calls me Charlie.”

Louise continued to ask questions about John’s medications, drug use, alcohol consumption, family and finally, contact information. She then left them so they could say good night to John.

Simon leaned in for another kiss to John’s forehead, the only place currently free from some type of line, tube or electrode.

“What about his empathy?” Andy spoke up.

“Bloody hell, I forgot about that!” Simon rushed out of the room looking for Louise. He found her sitting at a small desk outside John’s room.

“Excuse me,” Simon asked, “but we believe that John is an empath…”

“Yes, Dr. Johnson did say that. We have in a shielded room specially made for empaths. He’s safe,” she assured him with a soft smile.

“Thank you,” Simon replied, relieved. He returned to the room to find Andy talking to John.

“…and don’t worry about Charlie. I’ll make sure he eats and sleeps,” Andy looked at Simon as he walked up to the bed. “Well?”

“This room is made for empaths, it’s shielded,” Simon informed Andy. He carefully put his hand in John, careful of the IV line in it.

“Hey, Johnny, as Andy has probably already told you, we’re heading home. We’ll be back later today. You’re in good hands here. Don’t worry,” he bent down to kiss John’s forehead one more time. “I love you,” he whispered into John’s ear.

“Ready?” Andy asked.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” Simon sighed. Andy led the way. At the door, Simon turned for one last look at his sleeping beauty.

“I’ll be back later,” he reassured John one last time.

The drive home was made on silence. Andy kept one eye on Simon as he drove the frontman home. Simon simply stared out the passenger side window into the dark and dreary night. The rain had stopped but a thick layer of fog had descended. As there were few cars around at this early morning hour, they made good time on their trip back to Simon and John’s house. Simon roused himself as the car pulled onto the drive.

“Ta for the lift, Ands,” he said as he reached for the door handle to get out.

“You’d do the same for me, Charlie,” Andy replied. “Do you want me to park here or pull into the garage?”

“Leave it here, “Simon exited the car and stretched. “Take it easy going home.”

“What makes you think you can get rid of me so easily?”

“What…don’t you think you need clothes or a toothbrush or something…?”

“Tracey should have left me bag in me car,” Andy jogged down to where his car was still parked in the street. He quickly pulled it onto the driveway and exited with his duffel bag and a bakery box tied with string.

“It seems she left us some scones in here as well, so we have something to eat now, too.”

“That was sweet of her,” Simon held the door open for Andy, who dropped his bag by the door and took the box of scones into the kitchen.

“I don’t think I have any clotted cream to go with them,” Simon told Andy as he entered the kitchen.

“No worries mate,” Andy held up a small tub that had been nestled among the scones, “Tracey has supplied us with some.”He went to the cupboard and took down two plates and grabbed two knives out of the drawer and took them to the table. Simon put the kettle on for tea.

“Why don’t you shower while the kettle is on?” Andy suggested.

“Yeah, I think I will,” Simon stretched again and headed down the hall towards his and John’s bedroom. He stopped in the doorway. The bed was still unmade, the sheets all knotted up. He strode past towards the door of the bathroom and was confronted by the side window. The window itself was closed and locked but the blinds were still up. Taking a deep breath, he strode towards the window to lower the blinds. He stopped and stared at the window, the window that John had used to “escape” through.

“Oh, Johnny, baby, why did you feel that you had to run away?” Simon whispered, “What’s going on in that head of yours?”Simon closed his eyes and took a deep breath before exhaling slowly and sending his love towards where his Johnny lay in an ICU bed. Once again, he felt a small tickle in the back of his mind, like in the ED only weaker, that he knew was John. But, how could that be? In the ED he had been holding John’s hand. Now they were over 21 kilometers apart. But he knew it was John even if he could not say how he knew that. How strong of an empath was John? With a small smile he whispered, “Sleep tight, baby. I’ll see you in a few hours,” and closed the blinds.


	24. My Chances on the Danger Line

“I tell you, Ands, it was John” Simon gesticulated, “the same as in the ED, just weaker.”

“I believe you, Charlie. It’s got to be this empathy thing. I can understand him connecting with you when you were holding his hand, but we are, what, 25 kilometers away from the hospital. If he can reach out to you, in the state that he is currently in, then how strong an empath is he? And why is all of this occurring now?”

“Hmmm,”Simon bit into a scone with a dollop of clotted cream. He stared out the window as he chewed. “I think,” he continued after a sip of tea, “I think this attack by Dylan acted as a catalyst for his empathy. Thinking back, there have been a lot of small signs.”

“Yeah, Nick pointed out how John is always going out of his way to cheer others up, and he usually succeeds. And we all know how he reacts to strong emotions; he is either giddy, depressed or angry for no reason. Get him away from the sources of those emotions and he is fine again. And it takes a lot out of him to make others feel better. We just assumed that he was drunk or high.”

“Yeah, I think he may be using liquor and drugs to deal with all of those emotions whirling around him, or through him,” Simon finished his tea. “Geez, Ands, we gotta get him help and quick. I want Nick to call that doctor in the morning. I want to see if we can set up a conference call with her so we can have her answer some of our questions.”

Andy started to clear away the dishes. “Yeah, we better make ourselves a list of what we want to ask her.”

“Yeah, good idea! Just put those in the sink and go to bed. I’m beat,” Simon yawned.

“Okay, see you in the morning,” Andy yawned in response.

After Andy had headed off to the guest suite, Simon headed back to his own bed. He toyed with the notion of just straightening out the tangled sheets but decided to remake the bed with clean sheets. It took just a few minutes to pull the used sheets off and put the new sheets back on. Finally, Simon crawled into bed feeling exhausted.

Despite how tired he was, or maybe because he was so tired, his emotions began to run amuck. First, there was rage at Dylan that made him get out of bed and stomp around the room. That was followed by the deep sorrow he felt for John and the horrors that he had been put through. He sat on the edge of the bed and sobbed, unashamed at his tears or if Andy could hear him at the other end of the house. His Johnny was hurt and sick and in the ICU 25 kilometers away with a machine breathing for him. So much had happened in less than 36 hours.

After the rage and sorrow came worry and, yes, fear. Dylan was still out there and they did not know where. He had obviously been watching John if he knew where and when John would be alone. Where had he been this past year and a half? And what was he planning on doing next?

Finding sleep elusive, Simon went out on to the patio to indulge in a joint. He lit it up and took a hit. He slowly blew out the smoke and took another hit. By his fourth hit he was feeling calmer. He lay on one of the loungers on the patio and stared up at the clearing sky. He knew he was indulging in his emotions now because he would not be able to do so once John came home from the hospital.

“Thought I heard you come out here,” Andy sat on the opposite lounger. Simon passed him the blunt and Andy took a drag before handing it back to Simon.

“Is it helping?” he asked Simon.

Simon took the last hit and put out the blunt. “Yeah, it is,” he answered.

“Think you can finally sleep?”

“Yeah, I think I can. What about you?” Simon asked as he sat up.

“I’ve brought my own relaxant,” Andy held up the joint in his hand. Simon chuckled at that.

“You got any sleeping pills besides the reds?” Andy asked as Simon stood up.

“Yeah, why?”

“Maybe you should take one so you get a couple hours of sleep.”

“Yeah, I will. What about you? Do you need one?”

“No,” Andy smiled, “Tracey packed a bottle in my bag in case you didn’t have any.”

“Andy, hold on to her, she’s a great lady.”

“I plan on it, Charlie, I plan on it.”

Despite everything, or maybe because of the joint and sleeping pill, Simon managed to get a solid six hours of sleep and was up, shaved and dressed by 9:00am. As he made his way into the kitchen he could smell the fresh brewed coffee. Andy was seated at the table reading a copy of Melody Maker that John had left there. A half eaten scone was on his plate in front of him.

“Morning, sunshine,” Andy greeted him.

“Morning to you, too,” Simon poured himself some coffee and joined Andy at the table.

“You seem chipper this morning,” Andy noted as he put the magazine down.

“After the joint and the sleeping pill I slept well.” Simon helped himself to one of the left over scones. Andy pushed the clotted cream and jam over to him.”

“Have you had a chance to talk to Nick?”

“No, I spoke to Roger.” Simon raised an eyebrow at that.

“Yeah,” Andy laughed as he continued, “Roger stayed the night with Nick to make sure he was okay. He answered because Nick was busy getting dressed.”

“Putting his makeup on, you mean,” Simon smiled.

“Yeah, anyway, I asked him to have Nick call that doctor this morning.”

“Good, I really need to talk to her. I have got to know what to do around him,” Simon took another sip of his coffee.

“We all do. We basically live out of each other’s pockets when we are recording or touring. We all need to know how to protect him,” Andy assured Simon.

“We can’t always be suppressing our emotions while around him, either,” Simon took another bite of his scone. “Last night, after I came back in, I realized that I was resentful of him.”

“Resentful? About what?”

“I was resentful because I couldn’t express my anger and rage at Dylan. I had to keep it all in, all tamped down, so that John wouldn’t be hurt by my emotions; so he wouldn’t think that I was angry at him. I had to wait until we got back here, hours later, before I could let loose with my emotions. They had been bottled up inside of me all day. And to be truthful, I’m not angry just at Dylan, I’m also angry at John for running away. And for trying a new drug that he had no idea what it is or what it can do. And I’m angry at Gabe for giving him those drugs in the first place!”Simon massaged his temples, grabbing and pulling at his hair in his agitation. He took a deep breath and centered himself, sitting up straight up in his chair.

“Charlie,” Andy shook his head, “Centering is fine, but don’t keep doing it just to suppress your feelings. You’ll do more damage when you finally explode and all that shit is let loose.”

“Don’t you think I know that?! I need to find a way to let all these feelings out without hurting John!” Simon’s voice rose with his words.

“You’re going to have to talk and explain your feelings to him. When you are both calm, talk about how you need to vent but you don’t want to hurt him, and figure something out.”

“Yeah, Ands, that sounds good. We do need to talk, him and me,” Simon ran a hand through his hair.

“In the meantime, go get those emotions under control,” Andy pointed at Simon.

“I’m open to any ideas.”

Andy stared at Simon. “Do you still feel angry? Frustrate? Sad?”

“All three,” Simon gave a short laugh.

“Do you want to talk?”

“No, actually, I want to scream and cry.”

“So, go do it.”

“What?”

“Go. Cry for John and for yourself. Shout out your frustrations and scream your anger about Dylan,” Andy explained.

“Where?”

“Here, your living room, your bedroom, downstairs in your music room…”

“The music room! Yeah, that would be the perfect place to scream. Ands, you are a genius!” Simon jumped up and ran around the table to where Andy was still seated. He threw his arms around the smaller man and pulled him off of his chair. “Thank you, Ands, thank you! The music room is just the place!” He placed a sloppy kiss on Andy’s cheek before letting him go and heading for the basement steps.

“Go on, ya twit!” Andy laughed as he wiped his cheek where Simon had kissed it. “Get yourself straightened out so we can go see John,” he called after the singer.


	25. Another Day to Make My Stand

“Rhodes’ residence,” Roger picked up Nick’s phone when it rang. He expected Simon to call Nick this morning. He was surprised to hear Andy’s voice but not as surprised that Andy seemed to be hearing his voice.

“Rog?” Andy asked.

“Yeah?”

“I take it you spent the night with Nick?” Roger could hear the smirk on Andy’s face.

“Yes, I did,” Roger responded. “What’s up?” he continued, hoping to dissuade Andy’s questions.

“Charlie would like Nick to call that doctor, see if he can set up a conference call with her to get some answers for the questions we have. Is Nick there?” Andy told Roger.

“He’s getting dressed,” Roger answered.

“You mean he’s actually up?” Andy asked incredulously.

“He didn’t sleep much of last night. As far as John’s concerned he’s very emotional, you know,” Roger informed his friend.

“Yeah, I know. Charlie’s not up yet.”

“You spent the night with him?” It was Roger’s turn to smirk.

“If I didn’t, I doubt he would have eaten or slept,” Andy responded. “How bad was Nick last night?”

“Bad, Andy, bad. It took a couple of glasses of wine and a lot of talking to calm him down. Once I pointed out that he, too, was a victim of Dylan’s manipulation that seemed to flip a switch in his mind,” that and the kissing he thought but did not speak out loud. “Even though,” he continued, “he was up throughout the night.”

“So was Simon,” Andy sighed, “He was storming around his room and crying. I heard him go out onto the patio around 2:30- 2:40 in the morning. I found him there smoking a joint. I joined him for awhile and told him to take a sleeping pill, not a red, just a regular sleeping pill, and he must have because I didn’t hear him for the rest of the night.”

“Nick took too much wine to let him take a sleeping pill,” Roger sighed.

They exchanged a few other pleasantries before hanging up.

After his conversation with Andy, Roger had gone into the kitchen to see what Nick had to make breakfast with. As he expected, there wasn’t much. Nick either ordered food in or ate out. He did have coffee, bread, butter and jam. So, coffee and toast it was. He set the coffee to brew and sat down waiting for Nick before he made the toast. As he waited he went over the events of last night.

*** _He and Nick sat on the couch, kissing for several minutes, only breaking the kiss when they needed to breathe. Nick had looked at him with lustful eyes, his pupils dilated to the point where the green of his eyes was barely visible._

 _“Where do we stand, now?” he asked Roger, his eyes studying the other man’s face_.

_“I think we crossed a threshold here,” Roger answered, “I know that I would like to explore this relationship some more. What do you want?”_

_Nick blushed the prettiest shade of pink and lowered his eyes as a ghost of a smile crossed his lips. “I would like to explore this more, as well.”_

_He leaned in to capture Roger’s lips. He let Roger take control. Roger licked along Nick’s lip, demanding entrance. Nick eagerly opened his lips and allowed Roger’s tongue plumb the depth of his mouth. And Roger took his time exploring that mouth. He ran his tongue over Nick’s perfect teeth, over the roof of his mouth, along the inside of those perfect teeth, under Nick’s tongue to finally lick along that tongue, encouraging it to duel and dance with his. Now it was Nick’s turn to explore Roger’s mouth. Roger moaned as Nick ran his tongue over Roger’s teeth and all over inside his mouth._

_They continued to kiss until Nick yawned. Roger sat up with a chuckle. Nick looked sheepish at him. Roger loved the blush on Nick’s cheeks._

_“I think that’s enough for tonight,” he told Nick as the other man yawned again._

_“I think you’re right,” Nick nodded, reluctant to get off of the couch, to move away from Roger. Roger stood first, holding his hand out for Nick to take. Nick took Roger’ hand and kept his eyes locked with Roger’s as he was pulled into standing. Roger maintained that eye contact._

_“You need sleep,” Roger stated._

_“So do you,” Nick replied._

_“Yes, I do.”_

_“Sleep with me?” Nick queried._

_“I think it’s too soon for that,” Roger answered._

_“Not that way, you perv, just sleep in the same bed. I don’t want to be alone tonight,” Nick pleaded._

_“That I can do. Let me take a quick shower and I’ll join you.” Roger placed a chaste kiss on Nick’s cheek before grabbing his bag and heading for the guest bath. By the time he was done, Nick was already in bed with his eyes closed. He climbed in beside Nick and cuddled up close. Nick turned in towards Roger and opened his eyes._

_“Sorry if I woke you,” Roger said softly._

_“I wasn’t asleep yet. Don’t know if I will get much sleep tonight.”_

_“All you can do is try. If you can’t, then get up for a little while. If I’m awake, I’ll join you.”_

_“I’ll try not to wake you,” Nick whispered, closing his eyes._

_Roger gave Nick a quick kiss to his forehead before throwing his arm around Nick. He drifted off to sleep soon after. ***_

Roger was brought out of his reverie when a certain Nick Rhodes entered the kitchen, looking as elegant as ever. He quickly pushed the toast down into the toaster and turned to greet his new boyfriend.

“Good morning,” Nick greeted, almost shyly.

Roger gave him a smile, “Good morning. How did you sleep?” Roger could not take his eye off of him.

“Not very good but better than if I was alone. I’m sorry if I kept you up,” Nick replied.

Roger could not take his eyes off of him and Nick was beginning to feel awkward. “Why are you staring at me? Is my makeup smudged already?”

“No,” Roger was quick to assure him, “No, you’re just so beautiful.”

A delightful blush appeared on Nick’s face with a small smile, “Thank goodness! I thought that I looked like some freak!”

“If you are a freak, you’re a beautiful one with great taste.” It was good to see and hear Nick joking, especially after the emotional storm that had engulfed him yesterday.

It was the toaster popping up the toast that broke the spell. Roger turned back to the counter.

“What do I have to eat?” Nick asked curiously.

“You have coffee, bread, butter and jam. So, we are having coffee and toast,” Roger replied while buttering the toast.

“Well, good for me, then,” Nick grinned smugly as he fetched the plates and mugs. They did not speak again until they were seated at the table, eating.

“Did I hear the phone earlier?” Nick asked, licking the jam off of his fingers.

“Yeah, it was Andy. He wanted to let you know that Charlie would like to call that doctor his morning,” Roger answered, wishing that he was the one licking the jam off of Nick’s fingers.

“I was planning on it,” Nick nodded in agreement, taking another bike of toast. “Why did Andy call here rather than Charlie? And what did he say when you answered my phone?”

Roger chuckled, “Me answering your phone totally threw him, I think. And, Andy has appointed himself Charlie’s guardian, making sure that Charlie eats and sleeps.”

“That’s good. I remember how Charlie was the last time John was in the hospital. He barely left John’s side and when he did eat is was very little. I was so worried that he would make himself sick. I’m glad we won’t have that worry, this time.” Nick took a sip of coffee, “I’ll go call Dr. Lopez now,” he added getting up from the table.

“Okay, I’ll clean up here and then we’ll head over to see John.”


	26. Grazed By the After Glow

Roger and Nick arrived at the hospital first. They had barely settled into their chairs when Simon and Andy arrived.

“Have you talked to anyone yet?” Simon asked as a way of greeting.

“No,” Nick replied, “We just got here ourselves.”

Simon was quick to notice the change in Nick’s demeanor. He appeared less emotional, more in control of himself. Roger also appeared more relaxed. Apparently something had happened with these two last night.

“Were you able to get a hold of that doctor?” he asked Nick.

“Dr. Martina Lopez. Yes. Good news. She’s opening an office here in London and she just got approval to practice here, at this hospital. She said she could meet us here at 3:00, suite 302,” Nick informed him.

“That’s a pleasant coincidence,” Simon replied.

“I know,” Nick nodded. “I was very surprised.”

“Let’s check in with John,” Simon said, anxious to be near his boyfriend. He led the way to the reception desk. The young woman smiled at them.

“Who are you here to see?” she asked.

“Nigel Taylor,” Simon replied.

“You’re in time. Dr. Armitage has just started his rounds. Here is the code for the unit,” she said, writing the code down on a piece of paper. Simon thanked her and led the group to John’s room.

John’s room was dimly lit. The hissing of the ventilator and soft beeping of one of the monitors were the only sounds in the room. John lay pale and quiet on the bed, his body giving a small shudder every now and then as the ventilator breathed for him. Simon looked down at his sleeping beauty, wishing and hoping that his kiss would awaken him. Knowing that it would not, he leaned over and kissed John’s pale forehead. As expected, John did not wake up. He placed his hand in John’s hand.

“Johnny, baby, I’m back,” he spoke softly in John’s ear. John’s body did not move but Simon felt that now familiar tickle in the back of his mind, only it was stronger and did not fade this time. He gave John another kiss.

“There are some others here to say good morning,” he let go of John’s hand to make room for Nick to come up to John’s side. The tickle at the back of his mind faded as he let go of John’s hand, but it took a little longer until it was gone. He took a couple of steps back so Roget could move up to John’s side next to Nick.

Andy gave Simon a knowing smirk. “You felt him again, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, and this time it was stronger and lasted longer,” Simon grinned back.

“Charlie,” Andy’s face turned serious, “This room is supposed to be shielded. How did you feel him last night at home?”

“I didn’t think about that,” Simon admitted, “Another question for the doctor.”

Andy nodded and moved to the other side of John’s bed. The four of them stood around the bed, bantering back and forth, including John in their conversation. The kept the mood light. Once again, as Simon held John’s hand, he felt the tickle in his mind.

After several minutes of bantering, a tall, dark haired doctor walked into the room.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Armitage. I’ll be treating John while he is here in the ICU,” he introduced himself.

“Hi, I’m Simon LeBon,” Simon replied, “This is Nick Rhodes, Andy Taylor and Roger Taylor.”

“Related?” Dr. Armitage asked.

“Yes,” Andy quickly spoke up, “we’re his cousins.” Roger caught on immediately and nodded his agreement.

“And how are you related to John?” Dr. Armitage nodded towards Nick and Simon.

“I’m also a cousin,” Nick lied.

“I’m his boyfriend,” Simon informed the doctor, “How is he doing?”

“He is doing okay right now. We took a chest x-ray an hour ago and there has been some improvement. A small amount of fluid has cleared his lungs. He is running a low grade fever which isn’t surprising. His body is reacting to the fluid. He has what is called aspiration pneumonia which his body is treating as an infection. If you don’t mind, I’ll check him out right now.”

“Of course,” Simon replied as he and the other three moved away from the bed. Dr. Armitage removed the stethoscope from around his neck as he approached the bed. As he examined John, the other four Durans huddled together on the opposite side of the room.

“Last night, after the two of you left, I was alone with John in the ED. Ands had stepped out for a smoke and to talk to Tracey. I was holding John’s hand and I felt something like a tickle in the back of my mind. It was John! I know it was!” Simon informed Nick and Roger.

“And that’s not the only time. After we got back to his house, Simon felt him again!” Andy added.

“Yeah! It was weaker but it was the same sensation,” Simon confirmed.

“How could that be?” Nick asked, confused, “You said this room was shielded. He shouldn’t have been able to send to you! And the distance…”

“I know, Nick, I know,” Simon calmed the younger man down; “All I know was that I was closing the curtains at the side window of our room. I stood there and sent my love to him here. Right after I did that I felt him.”

“What about now?” Roger spoke up.

“When I held his hand I felt it again, stronger this time and it lasted longer after I let go of his hand,” Simon nodded.

“Looks like the doctor is done with John,” Andy pointed out.

Simon turned around to face Dr. Armitage as the doctor strode over to the four of them.

“He’s stable and showing signs of improvement. There has been no more seizure activity since last night. Neurology will be following him for that. He is reacting appropriately to external stimuli, which is a good sign," Dr. Armitage began.

Simon sighed in relief. Dr. Armitage continued.

“I’d like to talk to you about why he is in this particular room. Is he an empath?”

Simon spoke up, “We believe so. He’s always been very attuned and sensitive to the emotions of others. It’s gotten a lot stronger over the past two days.” Simon kept the fact that he had felt John connect with him earlier to himself.

Dr. Armitage nodded in understanding, “His issues started before he took the Extacy, correct?”

“That’s right,” Simon agreed with the doctor.

“We have been seeing an influx in what we are calling ‘run away empathy’ since Extacy started to appear on the club scene. For most sufferers, once the drug is out of their system they are fine. Since John’s empathy was present before he took the Extacy, getting the drug out of his system should make him feel better. His empathy won’t be quite so sensitive for a period of time, say two or three days. But for someone who has shown sensitivity without the use of drugs, like John, I would strongly recommend having him treated by a psychiatrist who specializes in empathy. We have a new doctor on staff here…”

“Dr. Martina Lopez?” Nick interrupted.

“Yes, that is her,” Dr. Armitage looked surprised.

“I’ve been in contact with her for a few weeks about John,” Nick informed the doctor. “We have an appointment with her at 3:00.”

“John will be in good hands. Dr. Lopez is one of the leading experts on empathy in the UK.” Dr. Armitage gave them a smile. “Do you have any other questions? No? This is a lot to take in at once. If you have any questions ask Mary, his nurse, and she can page me if needed.” Dr. Armitage turned to leave.

“Oh,” he turned back to the group, “Talk to him, touch him, let him know that you are here with him. Empaths say that there is always ‘back ground noise’ in their head from the emotions of others. Being in a shielded room stops that noise and several empaths claimed that it was very disorientating to have that noise suddenly gone. Reassure him that he is not alone.”

“We will,” Simon told the doctor. With a nod Dr. Armitage left the room.


End file.
